


Lady, You Don't Need to See

by TheFandomLesbian



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blind!Cordelia, F/F, Femslash, Lesbian, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Lesbian writer, detailed retelling of the events between fiona's fake death and the Seven Wonders trial, foxxay - Freeform, not season eight compliant, pre-Seven Wonders, raulson - Freeform, with several twists which are not canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-02-07 05:20:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18613963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/pseuds/TheFandomLesbian
Summary: After Fiona's alleged death, the coven collects itself in preparation to identify the next Supreme. Cordelia isn't a betting woman, but her gut tells her the future of the coven rests on the shoulders of Misty Day. When Misty tries to flee, Cordelia offers to help her unlock the depth of her magic through training and practice. The coaching brings them closer than ever before. But the task of the Seven Wonders lurks right around the corner, threatening to tear them apart again.





	1. Too Many Flowers to Cut Down

Sitting bolt upright in bed, a wave of intuition crashed over Cordelia. Hot sweat clung to her frame and caused her sheer nightgown to adhere to her skin.  _ What was it?  _ She couldn’t remember the dream that had stirred her awake. A chill tingled up her spine. All of the hair on the back of her neck stood up.  _ Something wrong is going on.  _ Cordelia swung out of bed and grabbed her cane from where she had left it right beside the nightstand. Fumbling around with her robe, she tied it around herself, and then she padded out of her room.  

The cold hardwood floor bit into the soles of her feet. Cordelia pressed a hand on the wall.  _ There.  _ She Saw it, the wisp of clothing, feet on the stairs—and then she heard it, thrumming through the walls, footsteps drumming down the stairs toward the back exit.  _ Someone’s leaving! _ Cordelia marched down the stairs. “Who’s there?” She didn’t want to disturb the other sleeping witches, but the wispy dress escaping alarmed her. They needed  _ all _ of the witches to perform the task of the Seven Wonders. The coven was lost without its leader. Until they discovered the identity of the next Supreme, Cordelia couldn’t risk losing any of them.  

The staircase proved an obstacle, but not insurmountable for Cordelia, as her bare feet followed the fleeing witch. She Saw the figure retreating out the back door and into the yard, leaving it open—the sound of Cordelia’s voice had spooked the witch, and she fled down the porch and into the dewy grass of the late hour. Cordelia stumbled after her. She was less certain with her bare feet as she touched down in the overgrown lawn.  _ Where has the gardener been?  _ “Come back! Wait!” 

Sliding through the mud, she stumbled and dropped her cane, but as she felt around for it, she found nothing but a stick. Drawing herself back upward, Cordelia plodded onward, her back to the chilly night wind which cut through the sheer material of her gown. “Wait!” She staggered onward. Her feet slapped the earth. She prayed the impact of her soles upon the ground would frighten off any snakes lying in wait for her. The witch, however, did not slow. “Wait—”

The low-hanging branches of the tree in the backyard whipped Cordelia’s face. “Oh, fuck.” The branches tangled up into her hair with their twigs ripping it all askew. Leaves showered around her. Her hands reached up to try to battle her way out. The splinters dug into the tender skin of her face. Sharp tugs at her scalp made her grow still under its reach. Desperate fists tore at her hair, trying to free it. Her toes curled into the dirt and grass with frustration. 

Footsteps approached her. She paused, both hands on the branch. “Miss Cordelia?” Misty’s voice broke the silence of the night birds and the insects chattering away at the moon. “You’re all tangled up.” In spite of the circumstances, Misty didn’t hesitate to touch her. She reached out and grabbed Cordelia’s wrists, batting them away to work on her hair. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”

The touch brought visions to Cordelia’s Sight—Misty, running away, fleeing into the night. She tucked her hair into a hoodie at the side of a highway and stuck out her thumb, hiding her face in case anyone recognized her, and then she crawled into the bed of an old truck driven by a cowboy and asked for a trip back to the swamp.  _ She wants to run away.  _ “I—I could ask you the same thing.”  _ I was chasing you, and clearly my ability to chase is not optimal anymore.  _

“You already know what I was doing, don’t you?” 

Cordelia hesitated. Misty was right. She already knew. “Why?” she asked instead. “We need you.”

With gingerly fingers, Misty plucked the dry, broken twigs off of the branch one by one and allowed Cordelia’s hair to fall back around her shoulders, filled with twigs, splinters, and thorns but otherwise untouched. Once all of her locks were free and Cordelia could move again, Misty took the blonde hair into her hands under the moonlight and plucked the tiny wood pieces out of her hair one by one. “Nah, you don’t.” Cordelia wanted to reach out and grab Misty’s face. She restrained herself. “I appreciate what you did for me, Miss Cordelia, beyond words… But I let one of y’all get away with killing me once. Once is enough. I’m going home.” Misty paused with her hands in her hair. “Would you like me to walk you back upstairs?”

“What? No.” Cordelia caught Misty’s hands by her wrists. “No, please, don’t go. We need you,” she repeated, like it would have some hold over Misty. “You belong with us. With the coven.” How could she possibly have failed so badly? The witches were meant to take shelter with the coven, but Misty had decided to run from it—the same way she had run from the witch hunters. How had they managed to frighten a witch so badly that she feared the very group designed to protect her? 

Worse yet, Misty’s fear was not unfounded. “No offense, Miss Cordelia…” Misty addressed her with that title. It made her feel special. None of the other witches gave her such respect. She didn’t blame them. “But I need this coven like I need a hole in the head.”  _ That isn’t true!  _ Cordelia wished she had words of comfort to offer, but she didn’t. “Y’all got a problem of killing people. Killing each other. What with Kyle, then Maddie, then Myrtle, then me—and Nan? With Queenie, being hurt? About the only person here who  _ hasn’t  _ been killed is you, and you see how that worked out for you.” 

_ She has a point.  _ Cordelia swallowed hard. She could feel her eyes moving in her face—it was a strange feeling, something she thought she would never become accustomed to, the sensation of her eye muscles twitching but nothing happening in response. “It was safe before Fiona,” she said, “and she’s gone now—the coven needs a Supreme to lead us. It’s safe.” 

A derisive snort left Misty’s nose. “It was safe for  _ you _ before Fiona.” Cordelia flinched at the sharpness to Misty’s words. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, no… You’re right.”  _ How many witches did Hank kill while my back was turned? _ She had trusted him so. She had trusted him with everything. In the scheme of things, she was the only one who was safe. Cordelia cleared her throat. “But Hank is gone now, too… Fiona took care of that. The witch hunters are gone. It’s safe for you. You can stay.” 

Misty’s gritty hand closed around hers. Misty had long-fingered, broad hands. “Let me take you back upstairs.” She avoided the topic. 

Biting her lower lip, Cordelia allowed Misty’s hand to wrap around hers. “I think it’s you.” 

“You think what’s me?”

“The Supreme.”

“We’re still talking about that nonsense?” At Misty’s question, Cordelia swallowed hard. “I ain’t nobody’s leader, Miss Cordelia. Yours or nobody else’s. I told you, I don’t want nothing of it.”

“Being the Supreme isn’t a choice. You’re an extraordinarily powerful witch, Misty.” Misty tried to pull her back toward the house, but Cordelia planted her heels into the cold, dewy grass. She didn’t mind losing some of the feeling in her toes. She needed to talk to Misty. “Resurgence is a very uncommon gift. You’re telekinetic, too.” She knew Misty had summoned a knife to kill the intruder alongside all of the other witches.  _ She works wonderfully with them in tandem.  _ Lord knew the coven needed a leader who knew how to be a team player. “Have you done anything else?” 

A quiet sigh fluttered from Misty’s lips. Goosebumps prickled all over Cordelia’s arms and legs. The nightgown was no protection from the night time chill. A rustling of fabric followed, and then a soft shawl draped over her shoulders, covering her arms. “I ain’t done nothing that didn’t come natural. God’s honest truth, Miss Cordelia, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m no good at the incantations. I don’t even know what the rest of the Seven Wonders  _ are _ , let alone if I can do them or not.” 

_ She’s talking to me.  _ Cordelia considered it progress. “You’re already doing two of them. That’s rare.” Her hands clawed away from Misty’s. Misty closed her eyes and allowed Cordelia to press her cold palms to her face, leaning into the embrace. “The others… Transmutation. Appearing and disappearing at will. Have you done that?” 

The expression under her hands shifted. Eyelashes battered against her palms. “Not at will, no. I have done it in the back of Zoe’s car.” 

_ That’s something.  _ “Divination—learning things from divine means, like beads or tea leaves.” Misty shrugged. She didn’t understand. “Concilium—controlling the minds of others at will.” She shook her head.  _ Misty wouldn’t try to do something like that even if she could.  _ She could hardly imagine Misty trying to manipulate anyone. “Descensum—descending into hell and reemerging.” 

Round lips formed an O of disbelief. “You’re kidding. You people just waltz into Satan’s dominion for shits and giggles?” 

A confused look flexed across Cordelia’s lips. “It’s—It’s a test.” It sounded pretty arbitrary when Misty said it that way, but she had a point. Was it frivolous for her to entrust all of her students to perform such dangerous tasks? Surely there was another way to identify the next Supreme. “The last is pyrokinesis.” 

“If I had the ability to control fire, I’m pretty sure I would have figured that out when I needed it.” The vision flashed before Cordelia’s Sight again—it never failed to take her breath away, no matter how many times she saw it by touching Misty. Misty’s body bound to the stake like Christ on the cross, arms tied above her head, shoulders on the verge of dislocation from all of the strain upon them; the flavor of gasoline stung the inside of her mouth, acrid and toxic. The fumes rose around her. The man pouring it from the tin covered his nose and mouth with a cloth, but Misty had no such luxury, and the fumes caused little figures to dance around the corners of her vision, big splotches of light and darkness. She forgot the flavor of clean air. The struck match, so tiny, so innocuous, dropped onto the line of gasoline and flicked up her body. The minuscule candle in the darkness blasted into an inferno—and Misty was the fire wood. 

The sensation of flames upon her flesh was unreal. It lasted for a few seconds which passed like hours. With every tired shriek, she drank in carbon monoxide and ash and soot into her lungs. By the time the third deep breath entered her lungs, she blacked out. Blissful darkness consumed her. Her fried nerves caused her to shiver, feeling only the cold, only the shock. But her body kept on burning. Her body kept burning until the ropes had singed to nothingness, and the magic pumped Misty’s soul back into her crispy shell, the burned, charred remnants of what once was a woman, and she could do nothing but sink into the mud just beneath the stake and wait, wait in agony for the magic and the mud to heal the wounds inflicted by man. She emerged from the earth anew, naked as the day she was born—and it was fitting that she was born again from the earth when Mother Nature had done a much better job of raising her than her family had—and she climbed to her feet, shivering and afraid. 

Cordelia knew Misty would never forget what had happened to her. But, still, she gently said, “Witches can manifest new powers following a traumatic event. Madison is much more powerful than she was before.”

Misty peeled her hands off of her face. “If you’re going to hit me with some ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ nonsense, I’ll stop you right there.” Misty held Cordelia’s hands. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold out here. I don’t want you to get sick.” 

“Wait.” Again, Cordelia rocked back onto her heels and refused to let Misty pull her away even as her toes had grown numb in the dirt. “What can change your mind?”  _ I shouldn’t. I should let her go.  _ But what about Misty’s search for company, for companionship? Where had that ended up now? What about her tribe? What about the moments they had shared in the greenhouse when Misty demonstrated her power under proper instruction? “Misty, I don’t think it’s best if you leave.” 

A quiet sound wheezed from Misty. “With all due respect, Miss Cordelia,” she said, voice indiscernible from the wind so it seemed a spectre whispered to her ear, “I didn’t ask what you thought. I’m sorry. I left to try to keep from getting killed. These tasks—they’re dangerous. I know I’m not the one you’re looking for.” 

Swallowing hard, a sigh left Cordelia’s lips. “I don’t want you to leave.” The words, small and broken, weren’t meant to escape from her, but she couldn’t draw them back in once she had spoken them. Was she selfish? Misty was her friend—her  _ only _ friend. Having someone care about her was a novelty she didn’t want to relinquish.  _ This isn’t about me.  _ It was about something much larger than her. Misty demonstrated signs of the Supremacy. If it was time for her to ascend, she couldn’t run away. But if it wasn’t—if Cordelia’s inclinations were wrong, if the Supremacy belonged to some other witch—Cordelia would miss her, anyway. 

The silence followed like Cordelia had punched Misty in the gut. “This ain’t my fight,” she said, “and it ain’t gotta be yours, either. You can come with me. I’ll keep you safe. We can go wherever you want, long as it’s out of town where nobody will recognize me—” 

Eyes fluttering wide, Cordelia’s jaw dropped open. “I—I can’t  _ leave _ . This is my home, Misty, and—it can be yours, too!” She squeezed Misty’s hands, pleading with her. “You belong here with us, with witches like you.” Misty’s skepticism bled off of her into her aura. “You belong with your own kind. You can grow. You can become powerful. You  _ are  _ powerful.” She bit her lip. “I know you don’t want to hear it… But Myrtle believes you are the next Supreme.” Misty began to pull away. Cordelia held fast to her, fervor bleeding from her touch. “Listen to me. Myrtle  _ raised _ me. She’s never wrong about this sort of thing. She’s been working with the Supremacy since Fiona ascended. She  _ knows. _ ” 

“You just listed five things I can’t do that I gotta be able to do to be the Supreme. I like Myrtle, I do, but she’s  _ wrong, _ Miss Cordelia. She thinks I’m all that because I saved her, and I’m grateful I found her, but I’m not half the witch she thinks I am—I’m not half the witch  _ you _ think I am.” 

Cordelia shook her head. “You  _ can _ do them. You said yourself you can transmute—you just need to learn more to know how to do it at will.” She didn’t dare let go of Misty. She was lost out here. Misty was her only hope of getting back inside—and she wouldn’t relent until Misty decided to stay with her. Misty was too kind to leave her out here in the dark and the cold. Misty’s shawl dangled from her shoulders. “You have a brilliant intuition. That’s a guiding point to divination and concilium—mind control. Descensum is just a spell, and pyrokinesis can be learned—”

“I thought you said all this stuff was out of reach for a regular witch.” 

“I don’t think you are a regular witch.” Cordelia’s eyelashes fluttered. Misty didn’t owe her anything—she wouldn’t dare dangle it over Misty’s head—but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her now, after she had worked so hard and given up so much to get her back. “Misty,” she said, unable to stop saying her name, “please. I’ll help you. I’ll help you learn. I’ll prove it to you.” Licking her lips, Cordelia hoped the wind wouldn’t chap them. “Stay with me—Stay. Please.” 

_ Stay with me.  _ Cordelia hadn’t meant for her tongue to slip, but she prayed it aided her cause. She couldn’t lose one of her witches now. “I’ll stay,” Misty said quietly. She brushed her hand across Cordelia’s tangled hair, tucking the strings behind her ears. “I owe it to you, for what you did for me.” 

“You don’t owe me anything.” Cordelia placed her hand over Misty’s and allowed the palm to linger on her cheek. “I had to find you.” 

The calloused hand rubbed the delicate skin of her cheek. “You’re too sweet, Miss Cordelia.” Misty’s hands had grit in them and splinters from picking all of the twigs out of Cordelia’s hair. “Thank you.” She held out her hand. Something whistled through the air. Misty placed Cordelia’s cane in the palm of her hand. “Let’s go back inside before you catch a chill. You city folk aren’t built to be out in the weather. The wind blows on you and you start sneezing. Stand out in the rain, you catch pneumonia, I swear it.” Cordelia swept the ground with her cane, giving a soft chuckle in response to Misty’s quiet words. She wrapped her hand around Misty’s arm and held onto her. Misty didn’t mind guiding her. She didn’t have anything to hide. Whenever she touched Misty, visions of flowers and gardens and small animals assaulted her, like she had touched Snow White. 

The stairs creaked as they proceeded up them. Misty closed the back door and locked it after herself where they had left it standing open; Cordelia prayed no animal had seen the opportunity to enter the house and cause trouble. She took the stairs one at a time, and Misty didn’t rush her, keeping her arm offered but not forcing Cordelia onto it. Misty left her safely outside her bedroom door. “Put on something dry. You got your gown all wet with the dew.” 

“I will. Thank you, Misty.” She touched Misty’s hand. “We start tomorrow?” 

A silent moment followed. “You were serious about that whole training thing? I figured you were just trying to finagle me into staying.” 

Cordelia blinked in surprise. “I was serious. I want to help you any way that I can.” 

Misty squeezed her hand once. “Yeah, alright. We start tomorrow. Get some sleep, Miss Cordelia.” 

She walked away. Her footsteps struck the stairs. “Where are you going?” 

Misty paused on the landing. Cordelia knew where she was from how many steps she had heard. “I’m sleeping on the couch downstairs. Queenie didn’t want to share a room with me, and I wasn’t crazy about sleeping in Nan’s bed, honestly, so I decided to crash out of her way.” 

_ No wonder she doesn’t feel welcome here.  _ Cordelia held out her hand again, this time in invitation. “You can stay with me if you like.” It was a bed too large for one person. She missed having a familiar weight on the other side of the mattress. 

Misty didn’t start back up the stairs yet. “Nah, Miss Cordelia, it ain’t my place to ask that of you. The couch is fine.” 

“You didn’t ask. I insist.” Sharing a bedroom with a student was inappropriate, but Misty wasn’t exactly a student—she was older than the other girls. She had come seeking shelter, not knowledge, and she had become Cordelia’s only friend. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her to sleep on the too-short couch. “Come to bed with me, Misty.” 

A dry snort left Misty’s mouth. “Bet you never thought you’d be saying that.” She drummed her feet back up the stairs and brushed by Cordelia. “I’m a light sleeper,” she admitted. “Sometimes I leave the lights on.” 

“Wow, you’re right. I can’t imagine how I would deal with such a thing.” Misty shivered a silent laugh from her chest as she entered Cordelia’s bedroom. The covers were still folded down from where Cordelia had gotten out of bed. She lay back down from where she had risen. “Come on.” 

“In the bed with you? Are you sure? Because I’m not completely totally clear for lice yet, and just saying I find new ticks on myself every night when I shower, and, like, you’re not exactly in a position to check yourself for critters—”

“You’re not infested, Misty. Come to bed.” Cordelia patted the mattress beside her in invitation.  _ Maybe she isn’t comfortable,  _ she considered, and biting her lower lip, she added, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” but she wondered why Misty had agreed to follow her in here if she didn’t plan to share the bed with her after all. 

The bed creaked as Misty sank onto it beside her. “It’s alright. I think I can handle it.” She wriggled beneath the covers. “If you’re alright with it.” Her gaze prickled all over Cordelia’s body; the hair stood up in response. 

Cordelia put her hand over Misty’s. “I wouldn’t have invited you if I weren’t okay with it.” Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, she waited for the sound of Misty’s head striking the pillow. All of her long, slender limbs stretched out on the bed. Misty’s bones popped. She let out a satisfied sigh. At the sound, Cordelia smiled. “Sleep well, Misty.” 

A breath whistled from Misty’s lungs. She was shivering. “Sweet dreams, Miss Cordelia. You cold?” 

“It’s chilly in here.” But the blankets formed a tent between them, and their shared body heat warmed them in a few minutes of silence. Misty faced Cordelia—her every breath fanned across her face. The blankets swaddled them up to their necks. Cordelia reached under the covers and touched Misty’s hip. The soft, level breaths of the other woman betrayed her sleep. But then she snorted back into wakefulness with a thin sound. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Withdrawing her hand, Cordelia tried to tuck back up into herself. “Nah, you didn’t.” Misty caught her by the wrist. “I don’t sleep well here. Too quiet. Too stuffy.” She rolled onto her tummy and nestled her arms under her pillow. “I like being with you, though. Makes me feel safe.” 

_ Safe?  _ Cordelia smiled, ducking her head. She repeated the word. “Safe? You think I’m capable of protecting anyone?” 

Her hand floated in the air, and Misty caught it and placed it on her cheek, giggling. Misty’s dark, throaty giggle warmed Cordelia’s chest and face. “Don’t be silly. You’d do anything to protect any of these girls.” Misty clutched her hand. “You know,” she said in a whisper, “I don’t put any stock in this whole thinking that I might be the Supreme. But if I am, I’ll be damn sure you never have to do anything to save them ever again. Your eye-stabbing days are behind you, Miss Cordelia, ‘cause I’ll take care of them for you.”

_ I hope it’s her. Dear god, please let it be her.  _ “I did what I had to do to best serve my coven. I would do it again.” 

“God, you make this place sound like some kind of creepy-ass cult. People dying for it. People living for it. Having your own religion. You need Jesus.” 

Cordelia chuckled. “Goodnight, Misty,” she said again. She rolled onto her stomach and closed her eyes. Misty settled beside her, but she didn’t fall asleep so quickly this time; Cordelia listened for her breath to change. It never did, and eventually, Cordelia’s mind slipped off on its own, having no confirmation of Misty’s slumber or lack thereof. Her breath leveled out, unaware of the soft blue eyes peering at her figure while she rested. 

Misty never slept very solidly, and having some company in the bed with her worsened the struggle as she was reluctant to risk disturbing Cordelia. She left the bedside lamp on and watched Cordelia’s face as she slept. The witch’s mutilated, scarred face twitched as she slept.  _ I wish I could strangle the man who did that to her.  _ But the blindness—Cordelia had done that to herself.  _ I didn’t deserve that.  _ She didn’t know why Cordelia had worked so hard to free her. She was nobody special. Clearly Nan hadn’t warranted such a reaction. In fact, neither had Madison, since Misty had become responsible for reviving her. And Queenie? Alive when no one knew for how long? 

Cordelia had let the other witches slip away from her—undoubtedly, she had mourned them, but she hadn’t found a way to save them. She had done it for Misty.  _ I don’t know why. _ Maybe Misty was easier to save. Maybe she was within reach. After all, Cordelia couldn’t bring back the dead.  _ But Fiona could, and she didn’t try to save anyone.  _ Biting her lower lip, Misty studied the way Cordelia’s face moved with every breath, the slight way her cheek expanded and then sucked back in.  _ She’s beautiful. _

Her face twitched in the beginning of a dream. Misty observed, her smile at Cordelia gradually dropping off into a frown. Mangled eyelids moved visibly beneath the flushed skin. The rapid eye movement indicated a dream.  _ Not a good one.  _ Cordelia grunted and grumbled, one hand coming up to her face and clawing at her eyelids. Misty took her wrist and pulled it away, not allowing her to hurt herself. Then, she pressed her palm to Cordelia’s cheek. She settled beside her, gazing intently at her face.  _ Can I send you a better dream?  _ Closing her eyes, Misty took herself back to her garden. 

In her mind, she strolled the path between the flowers and the fruit, holding Cordelia’s hand, guiding her. In her imagination, Cordelia could see all the wonders of the natural world. A pretty snake slipped away into the undergrowth. A sunflower beamed at Cordelia’s face. Misty tickled her nose with the yellow petals until she sneezed. Distantly, a brook babbled its song. “Ain’t it nice?” Misty asked her. The sunlight caught Cordelia’s caramel-colored hair and illuminated it. The canopy bent back to cast her into the queenly light. Misty broke off a growing sunflower and tucked it behind Cordelia’s ear. “There you are. All pretty.” 

The fantasy had Cordelia with her mismatched eyes, because those were the only eyes Misty had ever seen of hers. “Are you having a better dream now?” she asked in her mind, even though she knew Cordelia couldn’t answer her. When she opened her eyes, Cordelia’s mouth had curled upward into a grin.  _ I made her happy.  _ Something settled, all soft and sweet, in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes again, and this time, sleep stole her away. 

…

When dawn first cracked the sky, Misty’s eyelashes fluttered into wakefulness. Her head rested upon Cordelia’s chest. Clearing her throat, she glanced up at the sleeping witch, who had tangled both hands into Misty’s soft hair. The dawn light filtered through the windows. Misty itched to get out of bed and get to work—she liked an early breakfast, an early start—but she doubted she could rise without disturbing Cordelia, and that felt like the number one priority to her right now. 

The hands in her hair shifted. She lifted her eyes to Cordelia. “Misty?”

“I’m awake.”

Licking her lips, Cordelia didn’t yet relinquish her hair. “I had the most wonderful dream about you…” She hesitated. “It felt real.”

“You were having a nightmare. I decided to send you a little vision. It worked better than I thought.”

“You did it on purpose?” 

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know anyone could do that.” 

Misty shrugged. She didn’t think it was anything strange. “I gave it a shot. Did you sleep better?” Cordelia nodded. “Cool.” She settled her cheek back on Cordelia’s chest. Cordelia wasn’t letting her go, but she didn’t mind. She liked having someone to touch. The presence in the bed beside her disturbed her rest, but it also soothed some part of her soul. 

At the sensation, Cordelia released her hair. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat and started to sit up. Misty followed. “That’s—That’s good. That power. That’s—It’s almost concilium.” 

Arching an eyebrow, Misty resisted the urge to roll her eyes at first.  _ She can’t see me. _ She rolled her eyes. “We’re still on that whole top bitch magic kick, aren’t we?” Cordelia had made her a promise, and Misty supposed she intended to keep it.  _ Feels like a waste of time. _ But Misty had stayed for Cordelia. Cordelia was her friend. She couldn’t just throw that away. “Alright.” She rolled out of bed and landed on her feet on the cold hardwood floor. “What do you want for breakfast? I’ll cook us something.” Cordelia’s silence was her only reply. “Or I can toast us some bagels.” 

“No, um—thank you, but I’m okay.”

_ She misses a lot of meals.  _ Misty frowned. She had observed Cordelia’s failure to attend dinner. “You need to eat, you know,” she said softly. 

Cordelia fidgeted on the bed, playing with the hem of her nightgown. “I do. I prefer not to stab myself with cutlery in front of the entire coven. Or bite my fingers. It’s embarrassing.” She fumbled onto the end table. Her black sunglasses bounced away from her fingertips. She scrambled after them and placed them over her face, hiding her mangled eyes from view. 

“I can help you.” Misty placed the offer bluntly.  _ Maybe she doesn’t want my help.  _ She swallowed hard at the thought. “I won’t let anybody make fun of you. C’mon, you need to eat. And something that isn’t a sandwich or baby carrots. Let me scramble you an egg or something.” A quirk appeared between Cordelia’s eyebrows. Misty took her by the hand. “I’ll put tomatoes in it,” she enticed. “And onions. And peppers. And whatever else you want.”

A quiet giggle snorted from Cordelia’s mouth. “I don’t know. I’m messy… I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to try at being the Supreme, yet I’m doing it for you.”  _ For you?  _ Was that too forward? It was honest. She only stayed because Cordelia didn’t want her to leave. Cordelia was the first friend she had had in a long time. “C’mon,” she said again. “What do you take in your omelet? I’ll do anything you want.” 

“You sound quite confident in your cooking ability.” 

“Don’t change the subject.” 

Cordelia snorted again.  _ I like hearing her laugh.  _ Cordelia spent so much time looking sombre. Her laugh lit up Misty’s ears. “Whatever you think is best. I trust your judgment,” Cordelia conceded, standing from the bed. 

Misty grinned in victory. “Awesome!” She hopped up, too. “I’ll get cracking.” She patted Cordelia’s hand and released her.  _ I wonder what she Sees when I touch her.  _ It was a curiosity. Misty wasn’t afraid of Cordelia’s power. How could she be? Cordelia’s power had saved her. She couldn’t fear it. Stepping out of the room, she drummed her way down the stairs, an unusual skip in her step. 


	2. Who Will Catch You When You're Falling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "What Makes You Think You're the One" by Fleetwood Mac

Folding the omelets over on themselves, Misty whistled her own tune to herself, drowning out the white noise of the other witches. Madison played on her phone over a bowl of cold cereal quickly growing soggy. Zoe and Kyle talked in hushed whispers with toast between them. Queenie had an unopened granola bar between her and her textbook. The silence held an unusual tension.  _ I don’t want to compete with any of them.  _ Zoe was her friend. Madison—Misty didn’t know how she felt about Madison anymore, but she  _ had _ brought her back to life, and that meant something. And she didn’t necessarily get along with Queenie, but they were both friends with Nan.  _ I’ve gotta find Nan. It can’t be too late yet. _ She fidgeted, her lower lip between her teeth. She felt that Cordelia would have told her if reviving Nan was a priority, and she hadn’t mentioned a thing. 

She didn’t know what happened to Nan, and she was afraid to ask. Flipping the omelets, she listened to the sound of Cordelia’s footsteps on the stairs. Cordelia took the stairs slowly. Her cane tapped with every other step, determining the height of the stair and repeating once her weight had come down. She flipped one of the omelets onto a plate and placed it in front of one of the bar stools. “Anyone else want one?” 

All eyes landed on her. Kyle started to raise his hand, bright eyes widening, but Zoe smacked his hand down and shook her head. She raised her eyebrows. Were they all so fast to make an enemy of her? Madison cleared her throat. “No thanks, Swampy. I’d rather not ingest warm cholera.” 

“Be nice, Madison.” Cordelia bumped Kyle’s ankles with the cane, and she mumbled an apology. She climbed onto a barstool. Misty slid a glass of orange juice across the bar to her. “Thank you, Misty.” She hesitated, her hands in her lap. 

Misty, trying her best to demonstrate grace and finesse, ignored Madison’s quip and focused on Cordelia. “Fork’s at three o’clock. Orange juice is out past the one.” The guidance helped Cordelia as her shy hands darted around the surface of the countertop. The sight of her hands warmed the pit of Misty’s stomach. Cordelia had pretty, elegant hands. Misty took her own omelet and a glass of orange juice and stood across from them, bowing her head over her plate.

Uncomfortable silence consumed the room. Misty watched Cordelia, prepared to steady her or help her if she required it. Something about Cordelia made her heart explode into a flock of butterflies. Cordelia made Misty feel warm and full in a way no one else did. Tilting her head, she gave a dumb smile as she watched Cordelia chop up the omelet with the side of her fork. She stabbed the bite she had cut off with the prongs, and then she brought it toward her face, hesitating when it came a few inches away. Steam rose off of the egg and peppers and tomato. She drew it in closer, closer, until the steam brushed her lips, and then she blew it off. Misty waited with bated breath. Then, Cordelia opened her mouth. The egg vanished inside. She didn’t even stab herself. 

The victory crossed Cordelia’s face. She didn’t say anything, but the wrinkle between her brows eased, and the tension in her muscles relaxed. Chewing and swallowing, she asked, “What are you girls doing today?” 

No one answered. It seemed, in the moment, everyone stopped breathing. The air cracked with tension. Queenie cleared her throat. “I’m going to the library. Can’t speak for anybody else.” 

Madison slurped at her gross, soggy cereal. “Going to the spa.” 

“Kyle and I are going to the park.” 

It seemed everyone was leaving the academy. “Has anyone seen Myrtle?” Misty asked, hoping to change the subject before Cordelia said anything about their plans for the day. She didn’t want the other girls to know what had happened the night before.  _ There’s no point in me making enemies of anybody. One of them is the Supreme. _ Misty’s stomach curdled at the thought. Her intuition had never failed her before, but as much as she knew within herself that she did not hold the magic of the Supreme, she couldn’t decide which one of them it  _ was _ , either. 

Maybe Cordelia was right. Maybe she was it, and she just didn’t realize. How would she know, really? She hadn’t known Fiona that well. She didn’t have any point of reference except her own mind and the tingling on the back of her neck. Didn’t Cordelia know better than she did? Cordelia had more experience, anyway.  _ Oh, I don’t know.  _ She didn’t want to be the Supreme. She wished Cordelia would have let her leave—but she couldn’t bring herself to abandon Cordelia here.  _ Maybe I want to leave because I’m scared it is me.  _

It was a harsh truth. She pushed that notion out of her head for the time being. Zoe said, “She was going out clothes shopping earlier.”

“She’ll be gone all day, then.” Cordelia wiped her mouth. “Clothes shopping days for Myrtle are like bridal shopping, but they last all day and happen once a month.” Her hand bumped her glass of orange juice. It spilled over in her lap. “Oh, shoot.” 

Zoe hopped up and got the roll of paper towels for her. Misty tossed her a dish towel. Kyle dropped to his knees and wiped up the puddle forming under Cordelia’s stool. “Aw, gosh, Cordy, I didn’t realize they didn’t put breakfast in Braille for you.” 

Cordelia’s temple vein flexed, but she didn’t say anything back to Madison. Her silence stung Misty like Madison had slapped her. “Hey! Leave her alone!” 

Arching an eyebrow, Madison scoffed back at her. “Make me.” 

“Misty, it’s fine.”

She didn’t hear Cordelia’s placating words. Glaring into Madison’s eyes, Misty prowled closer. All of the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She felt like a pissed cat with its hackles raising and its tail fattening up. She was ready to scratch. Madison smiled at her and giggled. “What is it, Swampy? Are you gonna be Cordy’s seeing eye dog?” 

Zoe scowled at Madison. “That’s enough,” Queenie interrupted. 

“Say you’re sorry,” Misty ordered. 

Leaning forward, Madison caught her chin in her hand as she stared back at Misty. “Make me,” she repeated. 

_ Drown yourself.  _ The inexplicable thought exploded through Misty’s mind with the force of a dropped bomb pulsing forward and causing the ground around her to tremble. She blinked. Everything hazed behind a thick curtain of transparent red. Madison’s face buried into her bowl of cereal.  _ Breathe in. _ She narrowed her eyes at Madison. Her locks tumbled around her face onto the counter. Milk splashed out of the bowl of cereal. The sensation of Madison drinking the milk into her lungs scalded Misty’s chest, but it was detached—if she killed Madison now, like this, she would face no repercussions. 

The cries of the other witches were distant. She barely heard them. She didn’t acknowledge them. “Misty! Misty, knock it off! That’s enough!” Queenie kept trying to interrupt her, but nothing could come between her magic and where it drove through the frontal lobe of Madison’s brain. Milk soaked her pretty hair. 

Someone grabbed Misty around the shoulders. It didn’t break her concentration. “Say you’re sorry!” she screamed, as if Madison could speak with her face buried in the bowl of milk and soggy cereal. 

“Misty, let her go!” Zoe, too, was ignored. 

Cordelia fumbled her way up from her stool, sliding through the mess of orange juice which had been left behind. She stumbled around the corner of the countertop and grabbed onto Misty’s elbow, dragging her away. “Misty, stop!” 

Her voice, her touch, broke Misty from her reverie. She cut herself off. Free from her magical hold, Madison jerked up, gasping for air. Milk streamed down her face and from her eyes like tears. “You’re a real cunt—” she choked out. A soft sob broke her facade. 

Misty glowered back at her. “Tell her you’re sorry.” She punched every word. She didn’t care what Madison thought about her.  _ I don’t owe her a goddamn thing.  _ She had brought Madison back to life, and in return, Madison had tried to kill her.  _ If it weren’t for Cordelia, she would have succeeded.  _ Cordelia squeezed Misty’s arm, whispering to her to drop it, to let it go. “Apologize!” Madison owed Cordelia an apology. 

“I’m sorry!” Madison snapped in a panic. 

Glancing down at the bowl of cereal, Misty glowered until it scooted across the table and poured into Madison’s lap. With a cry of frustration, Madison shoved herself back from the bar and fled. Cordelia squeezed Misty’s arm again. “Misty…” 

The sound of her name from Cordelia’s lips warmed her a little. She turned to face Cordelia. She was afraid to smile. The headmistress wore a stern look on her mouth. Misty dropped her eyes from the lenses of her sunglasses; she knew Cordelia couldn’t see her, but she still avoided eye contact on reflex. “That was completely unnecessary.” 

Kyle kept right on mopping up the mess on the floor, the milk from the cereal and the orange juice Cordelia had spilled. Queenie took her book, threw out the granola bar, and headed out of the kitchen after Madison, and then Zoe took Kyle by his arm and tugged him out of the room. “She insulted you.” 

“She’s Madison.”

“I told you I won’t let nobody treat you like that anymore! You’re the one who’s so crazy about the whole Supreme nonsense—and if I am, I won’t let anybody talk to you like that. You’ve put up with that shit for too long.” 

“I don’t want you to treat  _ anyone _ like that. Especially not on my account!” Misty averted her eyes. She withdrew her arm from Cordelia’s grasp, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Fiona bullied anyone who disagreed with her from the time she ascended until the time she fell. Do you really want to be like that?”

Misty’s eye twitched. She ground her teeth. Her temple vein kept twitching. “It’s not bullying if I get back at somebody who won’t leave you alone. I don’t care what she says or thinks about me.” Cordelia reached for her, open palm. Misty hesitated.  _ Don’t.  _ This was her mark: she had nothing to hide from Cordelia. Cordelia was her friend. 

Their palms touched. Silence passed. “Why do you care so much what anyone has to say about me?” 

Misty’s heart skipped a beat. “You’re my friend. And you’ve been through enough. You’d do anything for her, and she’s just going to talk to you like that? Not in front of me.” 

A quiet sigh left Cordelia’s lips. “Madison has reason not to trust or like me.” She took her hand away from Misty’s. “I let her down when she was hurt very badly. I couldn’t crawl far enough out of my own ass to pay attention, and Madison paid the price for it—and for Fiona’s inadequacy.” She paused. Orange juice still dribbled off of her clothing. She let it, grasping the handle of her cane. “Bad things can happen when a Supreme is more concerned with her power than her job. Don’t forget that.” She passed around Misty. “I need to go change clothes.”

Skipping after Cordelia, Misty took her by the elbow. “Miss Cordelia—” Cordelia paused under her touch. “I don’t know what happened to Madison. And it’s really none of my business.” She swept Cordelia once with her eyes. The guilt bled off of her aura. Misty could smell it. “But whatever happened—it  _ ain’t _ your fault. You can’t hold the whole world on your shoulders.” She paused, uncertain what she meant to say. “You’ve been carrying around the weight of this entire coven for a really long time, and that wasn’t your job. You’re not supposed to do everything. You can’t.” Licking her lips, Misty felt her saliva thicken in the back of her throat. What was she defending? She didn’t know. Cordelia hadn’t told her, and Madison surely wouldn’t. “Fiona left you. And—whether I am the Supreme or I’m not—I’m not gonna ditch you. You never should have been left to handle all of this alone.” 

A strange look softened the corners of Cordelia’s mouth. Misty wished she could see her eyes. “You’re a forgiving soul, Misty. I’m grateful.” She placed her hand on the railing of the stairs. “Thank you for breakfast.” 

“You’re welcome.”  _ Wish you would have been able to enjoy it.  _ Half of the omelet remained in Cordelia’s plate in a soupy mixture of egg chunks and orange juice. 

“Meet me in the greenhouse in half an hour?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

…

The greenhouse was quiet. Misty sat on one of the tables, gazing out the window, as Cordelia trekked across the yard. The weeds snatched at her ankles, and she struggled to stay on the cobblestone path. The stones were broken in places.  _ Should I help her?  _ Misty wondered as she watched her through the window, but then Cordelia opened the door and stepped across the doorjamb. “No music?” Cordelia asked. 

Misty grinned. “Didn’t want to bother you. Or mess with your echolocation.” Cordelia walked into a table. “See?” She hopped off of the table and adjusted the pots Cordelia had displaced. “You alright?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Where do you want us to start?” 

Cordelia navigated around the table to her favorite plant, the pretty one that produced fruit when enchanted. Misty followed her. She offered her arm, but Cordelia didn’t take it, and Misty didn’t press her. Cordelia was her teacher; she was here to learn. “Do you know the type of magic you used on Madison?” 

“Mind control?” Misty guessed.

“We call it Concilium.”

It was a fancy word. “I suppose it’s one of those seven wonders you told me about last night, when I was too tired to care.” Cordelia chuckled. Misty grinned. She liked the sound of Cordelia’s laugh. But then the mirth left her face. “I don’t want to make her do that again. You were right. It was uncalled for.”  _ I could’ve just made her apologize. _ It wouldn’t have been as satisfying, but in retrospect, it didn’t need to be satisfying. Cordelia wanted her to be a good leader.  _ I’m not the leader of anything.  _ She could humor Cordelia. On Sunday, the new Supreme would rise, and this would be behind them, and she would still be Cordelia’s friend. All the butterflies kicked up in her chest and her belly as the sun streamed through the window and struck Cordelia’s beautiful caramel-colored hair, flashing like unearthed topaz. The light reflected on her sunglasses. Misty averted her eyes to keep Cordelia from detecting her stares. 

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that again,” Cordelia promised her. She took one hand off of her cane and offered it to Misty, palm-up, placating her. Misty grabbed her hand without hesitance. The sensation electrified her, grabbing the live wires of Cordelia’s blood and nerves and allowing them to fuse together. She felt like a little girl grabbing onto an electric fence just to experience the sensation. The goofy grin crossed her face again. “I know you don’t want to do that again.” 

Touching Cordelia softened Misty’s gut. She gave a small smile. “So what do you want me to do?” She wondered if a more intelligent person would have been suspicious. But Cordelia would never hurt her. 

The soft fingers squeezed hers in return. “Do it to me.”

The gleeful expression fell from Misty’s lips. “What, now?” 

“The spell. Do it to me.” Misty cringed at the mere suggestion. “Nothing dangerous! I don’t want you to hurt me.”

“I would never!” 

“Well, we don’t have anything to worry about, do we?” 

Misty licked her lips.  _ I don’t want to. _ She stared down at where her hand joined with Cordelia’s. Her hand felt so nice. She didn’t want to lose the touch of that sweet hand. But in the same vein, she didn’t want to risk hurting Cordelia. What if something went wrong?  _ I don’t want to take control of her like that.  _ “I don’t know, Miss Cordelia… I don’t want to be in your head like that. It ain’t my place.” 

An eyebrow arched in return to her. “I’m inviting you. It is your place.” 

She balked again. “I don’t want it.”

Cordelia quieted. “Why not?”

It was a soft, earnest question, and Misty could not deny Cordelia an answer. “I… I don’t want to have that kind of power over you.” Her reflection in the black lenses of Cordelia’s sunglasses stared back at her and filled her with inexplicable guilt. “I did that to Madison because I was angry. I wanted to overpower her. To punish her. I don’t think I can do that to you. I don’t want to feel like I’m treating you the way I treated her.” 

“You know there are ways to have power without abusing it,” Cordelia said gently. “You can be a strong leader without being a manipulative one.” 

_ Leader.  _ The word burned inside of Misty’s chest. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want to be the leader of anything. She licked her lips. “How can I get by, not counting as manipulative, if I use a power that’s dedicated to manipulating people? You know, there’s a reason this spell was one of the Unforgivables in  _ Harry Potter. _ ” Her mouth twitched. “I just… I don’t like it.” 

“Being the Supreme requires you to have the  _ ability  _ to perform this magic. It doesn’t require you to use it.” Cordelia paused, but Misty still wasn’t sold. “If you saw a child running into traffic and you had the ability to stop him, would you?” 

“Of course!”

“What if weren’t a child? What if it were me instead?” 

“I’d do whatever I had to do to keep you safe.” 

A soft chuckle left Cordelia’s lips. “Well, then, pretend the world is a busy highway intersection, and I need someone to save me before I get myself killed.” 

_ It makes sense.  _ Fiona was a bad leader. She used her magic for the wrong things. But Misty wouldn’t be that way—she had Cordelia to guide her.  _ It’s all stupid, anyway, that I’m really thinking about all this.  _ She couldn’t be the Supreme. She knew herself well enough. She knew her magic well enough. All of her intuition told her she was far from the leader of this coven, and she didn’t enjoy entertaining it. But Cordelia wanted it. And she wanted Cordelia to be happy. “Okay,” she agreed. “You make a fair case.” 

“It’s not so implausible that you might need to save my life.” 

“Really, I’d rather just keep you away from busy intersections…”

“Don’t change the subject.” 

Misty ducked her head and pulled her hand away from Cordelia’s; she knew Cordelia had Seen her intentions, her last ditch effort to spare herself from this new fate. “Right.” She cleared her throat. “What do you want me to do? Just—right here? Or out there?” 

“You’re in charge.” 

It was a big responsibility. Misty didn’t like it, but she knew she couldn’t deny it. Cordelia gave her this. “Are there any limits? Anything you don’t want me to do?” 

“You already wouldn’t do anything I’m not comfortable with.” 

She nodded. “Alright. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” 

She almost wished Cordelia would have said no. Clearing her throat, Misty leaned back against the table. She closed her eyes.  _ What did I do to Madison?  _ It had come naturally with Madison. She wanted something, and she got it. But she didn’t want anything from Cordelia. Her essence reached out of her brain. It pawed through the air, clawing with desperate claws, and then it landed inside Cordelia. Misty’s eyes flicked open as she felt herself settle. This wasn’t filled with anger and fear like it had been with Madison. No enmity crackled between them; Cordelia was very calm. She wore a serene look upon her face. 

It took no force to drive Cordelia to walk down the aisle between the tables of plants. She tripped over her cane. Misty asked her to put it aside, and she did without hesitation; she didn’t need it. Misty was in control. Their magics tethered together in an invisible but tight knot. She had driven herself into Madison like a truck into a brick wall, but Cordelia welcomed her, a raft floating in a river. The contempt of Madison’s magic was not there. Cordelia was awestruck and filled with wonder.  _ Her aura is different.  _ Misty followed Cordelia out of the greenhouse and into the sunlight. 

The bright light danced all over Cordelia’s caramel-toned hair and set it ablaze like an orange sunset.  _ She’s so beautiful.  _ Misty stayed a few feet behind Cordelia—she didn’t want to let her walk into anything dangerous. Over the cracked sidewalk, around the front of the house, to the walk which led to the street.  _ Let’s check the mail.  _ It was a simple enough task. It didn’t put Cordelia in any danger. 

Cordelia opened the mailbox, took out the envelopes, and marched back up the steps into the academy, where she left them on the kitchen table for someone else to sort through later. Misty followed her through the foyer. The premises were vacant, abandoned—she didn’t know where the other witches had gone, and she didn’t care. At her will, Cordelia walked through the kitchen.  _ Let’s have a glass of milk.  _ Cordelia opened the cabinets and found a glass. Going to the refrigerator, she took the open gallon of milk and poured it.  _ Stop. That’s enough.  _ Then, Cordelia lifted it to her lips and drank it. 

The sound of her swallows gulped through the air. Misty could almost taste the flavor of the milk on Cordelia’s tongue.  _ Take a break. Breathe a second.  _ A ring of milk surrounded Cordelia’s mouth in an adorable white mustache. Misty grinned at her. She wondered if Cordelia were conscious, if she were experiencing this and aware or if she would awaken as if from a dream when Misty lifted the spell. It seemed a dumb question to ask, but she was curious. She wanted to know what Cordelia gained from this.  _ I'll ask afterward, _ she decided. She didn't want to interrupt now while she had Cordelia under her spell.  _ She didn't tell me how long to do this. _

With gentle instruction, Cordelia finished the glass of milk.  _ Hope she's not lactose intolerant.  _ Misty had promised not to hurt her, and Cordelia hadn't  _ said  _ that she couldn't drink milk…  _ I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.  _ Misty followed her through the kitchen to the backdoor, down the steps, into the yard. Tilting her head back to admire the top leaves of the trees smattering the backyard. Misty knew she could climb those trees if she tried her best, but could Cordelia? Under her instruction? With her guidance? Drawing herself under the tree, she stared up the sheer face of the trunk. The rough bark had grooves for feet and hands to take hold. As she thought it, Cordelia slipped out of her flats and pressed the palms of her hands against the tree. She opened her arms and placed her hands on the sides of the trunk. Her legs bunched underneath her, and she sprang like a frog at the trunk. 

The soles of her bare feet landed on the sides of the tree in a crouched position. She hopped up the tree in a crooked rhythm. She was clumsy, not as good at it as Misty, but still adept as she clawed her way upward. With her hands sliding up the sides of the trunk, she jumped with her legs, stood from the crouch, and moved her hands again like someone who had climbed trees her whole life. The late morning sun struck Cordelia's hair. _Dear god,_ _she's beautiful._ Misty couldn't help but admire her as Cordelia climbed higher, up to where the branches forked off into leafy patterns. 

Something tingled on the back of Misty’s neck and stirred in the pit of her stomach. A death. “Huh?” The tiny soul, minuscule, could have gone overlooked, but it was so  _ close _ . It broke her concentration. Turning away from Cordelia, the bright yellow wings of a dead butterfly caught her eye from the grass. Bowing down, Misty scooped up the butterfly into her hands and cupped it there. The dust shed from its beautiful, dainty wings onto her skin. A long gash ran down its body. Some of the discharge from inside it bled into her cupped palms. “We can take care of this…” Closing her eyes, she breathed in.

The sweet smell of the grass brushed all over Misty’s face. She relished in the scent of the cut grass wafting over her. As she exhaled, the soul which had tied itself to her floated back toward the insect—a tiny soul, something barely tangible yet still present. The gash in its battered body knitted and mended and closed. The torn wings fluttered. As they shimmered with movement, the chitin drew back together. The insect sat up and rested a moment in the palm of her hand and rested for a moment. Its antennae twitched and roamed the air. Then, it bolted from her hand to the breeze, healed and alive again. 

“Misty?”

Cordelia’s clear voice interrupted her reverie. Misty blinked around in circles. “Miss Cordelia? Where—oh, holy Mary, mother of God!” Yards separated them where Cordelia clung to the top of the tree, nestled between two branches. “Hold still!  _ Don’t move! _ ” Cordelia swayed. She wrapped both of her arms around the trunk of the tree. “I’m coming up to get you! Don’t move!” Misty looked around. How could she help?  _ I can climb that tree with my eyes closed.  _ But how would she get Cordelia down? She couldn’t safely get them both down.  _ I need a ladder.  _ She hadn’t been here long enough to know where to find anything. 

The front door slammed closed. “Cordelia’s stuck in a tree!” Queenie jogged across the lawn. “Misty—what the  _ hell? _ How did she get up there?” 

Misty cleared her throat. She didn’t have a good lie. “We were practicing concilium.” 

“Why did you make her climb a tree?”

“I don’t know! It seemed fun in the moment!” 

Yards above them, Cordelia trembled, her face pressed right against the bark of the tree. “Please, help!” she called down. 

_ I can’t leave her up there.  _ Misty gulped and went to the base of the tree. “Will you get a ladder? Tallest one you can find?” she asked Queenie. If Queenie rolled her eyes, Misty didn’t see it, and she turned and headed toward the garage. “I’m coming, Miss Cordelia!” Misty placed her hands on the sides of the tree trunk and frogged her way upward. “I’m coming! Just don’t move!” Left hand, right hand, push up with legs, spring and catch. She worked on the rhythm and kept springing upward. Above her, Cordelia dangled, a motivator for her to climb faster. “I’m coming up under you! Don’t let me scare you!” 

As she began to encounter branches, Misty grabbed onto a thick one opposite Cordelia and pulled herself up. “Hey, I’m—I’m right here.” Her words came in quick pants, gasping for air at her quick ascent. “Just don’t look down.”

“That’s not going to be a problem.” Cordelia’s face pressed into the bark of the tree. She shivered. “How—How high up are we?” she asked in a thin voice. 

Misty put her hand over Cordelia’s. The Sight caused her to flinch. “Take it easy. I’m awful sorry. Queenie’s bringing us a ladder. I’ll get you down.” She stroked the back of Cordelia’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t know what got into me. I got distracted.” 

“It’s okay.” Cordelia’s voice shook. “It’s… You did it. What I asked you to do.” She swallowed hard and dry. “I don’t know if I can do a ladder,” she admitted in a tiny tone. 

“I’ll carry you on my back.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Do you want to live in this tree for the rest of your life?” 

“It’ll be a short life if I fall.” 

Misty rubbed the back of Cordelia’s hand, trying to provide some comfort. She peeked back over her shoulder to Queenie, dragging a ladder across the yard. She didn’t trust herself to scale the whole tree with Cordelia on her back—it was too much extra weight. She could slip and hurt both of them.  _ There’s no way that ladder will reach all the way up here.  _ She would have to manage. “It’s alright. Queenie’s coming. She’s gonna help us.” Far below, Queenie worked at extending the ladder as far as it would reach. It snapped into place. She lifted it and propped it against the tree, several feet below Misty and Cordelia. 

“C’mon down! I got it!” Queenie called up to them. 

“Alright. Give me your hand. I’m gonna shimmy us down to the top of the ladder.” 

A thin sound emitted from Cordelia’s throat, a mewl of terror. She held fast to the tree trunk. “How much does it hurt to die?” 

The question took Misty aback.  _ A lot.  _ She bit the tip of her tongue. It was a panicked question blurted in a moment of fear. She couldn’t hold it against Cordelia. “You’re not gonna find out. Come on.” Misty crawled off of the branch which had supported her and slung her arms around the trunk of the tree, grappling for a firm grip. She bunched her legs beneath her and braced all of her weight backward. “Put your arms around my neck.” She couldn’t move her arms, not without falling; Cordelia had to move herself. And Cordelia seemed positively fixed to the tree. “C’mon. It’s alright. I’m right here. I won’t let you fall. Trust me. This ain’t even the tallest tree I’ve ever climbed.” 

Misty’s reassurances hardly seemed to sway Cordelia, but she swallowed hard, and then she scooted her bare feet along the exposed branch beneath her, one hand reaching with a touch like a butterfly. It landed on Misty’s arm and followed her muscles to her shoulder, stringing past her thick hair. Cordelia shivered with the cool breeze teasing against her hair. “I don’t know, Misty…” 

“You can do it. C’mon, don’t worry about me.” Misty had never climbed a tree with another person before, but she didn’t have the option to change her mind now. She had gotten Cordelia into the tree, and she had to bring her down. If Cordelia heard her thoughts, she didn’t heed them. She slid her arm around Misty’s neck. “C’mon, other arm, too.” 

It followed. She hooked her arms around Misty’s neck, clasping her hands together. Then, her legs dropped out from under her. 

The weight draped over Misty’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes. Cordelia’s body swayed left and right with momentum. Her legs bundled up together like an infant’s until she unfolded them and hooked them around Misty’s middle. Her face thrust into Misty’s hair and buried there. “Oh, bon dieu,” Misty breathed. Her arms stung with the strain. Balls of her feet digging into the bark of the tree, she scraped downward with the impact, holding fast to the tree. Everything smarted. Cordelia was thin—and Misty was grateful enough for that—but she was still a whole person, and Misty supported all of their weight with her own two arms. 

She felt powerful. She  _ liked  _ it, how strong she felt with Cordelia clinging to her and her slender shoulders carrying the weight of the entire world. Cordelia was the entire world to her. Misty had nothing else. Chest tight with strain, Misty wanted to speak, but she feared she couldn’t without croaking. Breathing seemed too difficult. 

Each clawing downward motion sent loose chunks of tree bark spraying down from under her hands. She hopped downward, extending her legs, and then shrank down into a squatting position over her knees. Cordelia’s weight shook on her back. Her ankles tangled in front of her abdomen. They bumped against the rough texture of the tree trunk. With every bump they encountered, a tiny gasp left Cordelia’s mouth, pressed tight against the skin of Misty’s neck. “Sorry,” Cordelia whispered. 

“To the right!” Queenie called from below. Misty shuffled in accordance with her directions. “Careful now! The top of the ladder is right under you!” As she spoke, Misty extended one foot and met the top rung of the ladder. Misty shimmied a little lower and placed her foot on the second rung, and then she slid lower and pawed downward until she clasped the rungs with her hands and her feet. “There, you made it! I’m holding it, just come down!” 

A gusty breath of relief left Misty’s chest. “We’re alright now,” she told Cordelia, whose fast grip around her body didn’t lessen. “Just hold tight. I’ll get us down.” Her bones and muscles ached, but now, she had more support and distribution, and it seemed easy compared to the frogging motion she had performed to make it this far. “I’ve got it. You alright?”

“Peachy,” Cordelia croaked. She shivered. Her ankles bumped against the rungs of the ladder, and she tucked them in deeper against Misty’s abdomen. 

Misty’s feet swung down, rung after rung, until she touched the earth with the balls of her feet and settled back onto the grass. She leaned back to help ease Cordelia off of her back. “Are you okay?” she asked again as Cordelia adjusted her sunglasses. Misty held out her hand, and Cordelia’s cane whistled from the greenhouse. Misty put it back in the palm of her hand. 

She nodded. “I’m fine.” She held out a hand to Misty, and when Misty placed her palm in her hand, she gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” The tiny smile on her face revealed no anger or frustration. If she were upset with Misty, she betrayed nothing. “You saved me.”

In spite of herself, a blush spread across Misty’s face, and she ducked her head with a sheepish grin. “Figure it’s common courtesy, being I got you stuck in the tree.” 

Queenie cleared her throat. “That was the stupidest thing either of you have ever done in your entire lives.” 

Cordelia nodded. “That’s fair.” 

Misty shook her head. “This doesn’t even crack my top five.” 

Queenie arched an eyebrow at her, but before she could say anything, a car turned into the driveway and approached the house. Myrtle climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Oh, my sweet Cordelia! You won’t  _ believe _ what I found for you at the boutique.” 

The soft hand slipped away from Misty’s scraped palm. “Excuse me. I must entertain her.” She extended her cane before her. The grass tangled around it, but Cordelia was careful. She became more practiced every day. “Thank you,” she said to Misty again. “Thank you,” she said to Queenie, and then she headed across the lawn to greet Myrtle. The noon sun caught her hair. It smarted like an ember to Misty’s eye. Myrtle unloaded bags from the back of her car and burdened Cordelia with them, and Cordelia laughed at something Myrtle said out of Misty’s earshot.  _ She’s so beautiful.  _

A sharp swat on the back of her hand drew her attention. “You got a goofy look on your face.” The aforementioned grin fell away at Queenie’s sharp words. She narrowed her eyes at Misty. “You were practicing concilium.” Dumb and mute, starstruck from the sound of Cordelia’s laughter, Misty bobbed her head. “Cordelia’s training you.” 

_ Oh.  _ She remembered too late that she didn’t want anyone else to know. “Er… Training might be a strong word.” Queenie’s skeptical expression lingered. Defensively, Misty lifted her chin in defiance. “Miss Cordelia can’t teach me to do anything that ain’t already in my power. She’s just helping me find the path to it. She’s a powerful witch, and she knows more than any of us here. She’s got a lot to offer anybody willing to learn. It ain’t my fault everybody else swept her under the rug with last year’s dust.” 

Queenie crossed her arms. “It’s none of my business, flower girl.” Misty wanted to snap back, but she didn’t. It was a softer nickname, anyway, than the one Madison had given her. “I want your help.” 

“My help?” Misty repeated. 

“You owe me. I got you out of that coffin, and I just saved your ass again. I need a favor.” 

_ She’s right.  _ Misty owed Queenie. But she wasn’t about to sign her name in blood by any means. “What is it?” she asked, balking at the notion. She wanted to repay her debt, but she couldn’t abandon her principles. 

“You don’t have to look so scared.”  _ I don’t look scared! _ Misty pinched the tip of her tongue between her front teeth. “Meet me at eleven tonight in the foyer. We’re going to the cemetery.” Queenie turned on her heel and started to walk away. 

Misty followed her. “Why?” 

Queenie didn’t look back. “I want Nan back.” 

Misty stumbled to a halt and watched the noon sun land on Queenie’s back, following her into the house with Myrtle and Cordelia. 


	3. Half-Closed Eyes and Unconscious Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Murrow Turning Over in His Grave" by Fleetwood Mac.

_ How am I going to keep Cordelia from finding out?  _ Misty faced the question as she tiptoed up the stairs from the ground floor. Somehow, she had dodged an entire meal without touching Cordelia—and, she assumed, coming off as suspicious, or else Cordelia would have confronted her, wouldn’t have she?  _ I ought to just tell her.  _ Misty wasn’t good at keeping secrets, and now that she shared Cordelia’s bedroom, she doubted she could endure a whole night without telling her, if she could even manage to slip out without Cordelia noticing. 

But what was the alternative? Taking Cordelia with them? Queenie wouldn’t let that fly. No one had told her what happened to Nan.  _ What if I need to know?  _ Misty knocked twice on the bedroom door. “Misty?” Cordelia called from within. “Come inside.” 

Misty opened the bedroom door and stepped inside. Cordelia sat in the dark, barely her silhouette visible in the moonlight peeking in through the window. Misty flicked on the lamp to illuminate her. She held a book in her lap, and she had taken off her sunglasses for the day. Her hair, damp from the shower, hung down around her beautiful face with the scarred eyelids and the mutilated irises and pupils flicking toward the source of the sound where Misty closed the door behind her. “How’d you know it was me?” 

An index finger pressed to the page of the book. Misty glanced down at it—Braille.  _ Does she read Braille? Already?  _ On the bed beside her, she held a sheet of paper, what looked like a guide, though Misty didn’t know what any of the raised dots meant. “Your footsteps. Everyone’s sound different.” 

A quirk appeared between Misty’s eyebrows. “What do my footsteps sound like?” She opened the trunk of things she had placed in the corner of Cordelia’s room. She didn’t own many things; the contents mainly consisted of clothing she had stolen or bartered for while she lived alone, her Fleetwood Mac tapes, and her assortment of keepsakes which she hadn’t allowed herself to part with even after death. 

Cordelia considered with a hum.  _ Is it a hard question?  _ Misty wondered if she shouldn’t have pried. “They’re light. The lightest, compared to everyone else’s. Even when you wear your boots.” She paused a moment. “But you’re barefoot now.” 

_ Wow.  _ Misty glanced down at her feet. “Yeah. Don’t worry—I washed ‘em off in the garden before I came inside.” Dirt still clung to her leg hair and her ankles, but she wasn’t leaving tracks around the house, and that was what mattered to her. “Are you alright? Did you get all dinged up?” Misty’s palms and knees and soles were scraped from her hasty scramble up the tree. 

“I’m alright.”

“I’m sorry. You told me to act like the world was an intersection, and I drove you right into busy traffic.” 

A dry chuckle left Cordelia’s tongue. “Don’t be sorry. It was fun… in retrospect, at least.” Misty doubted her honesty, but she didn’t call her out. “It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” Cordelia admitted, and something about the sad tone to her voice dispelled Misty’s doubt. 

Earnest, Misty perked up, eager to dispel any conviction Cordelia could have had about her level of fun. “I can be fun without getting you stuck in a tree!” Cordelia laughed again. Misty pressed her, “We can do anything you want to do that’s safe and doesn’t involve tall places.” 

“You’re very sweet, Misty.” Something about the words felt like a dismissal, and they stung. “But I don’t think I’m fun material anymore. I’m a little old for it, now.” Her finger kept tracing over the same line of dots, like she couldn’t quite make sense of them. “Are you going to shower?” 

_ You’re not old!  _ Misty wanted to insist, but she held her tongue. “If you don’t mind.” 

“No, go ahead. Use whatever you need.” Cordelia opened her hand to the bathroom attached to her bedroom.  _ I wasn’t planning on using your shower.  _ Since she had the invitation, Misty opted not to object. She ducked her head and gave Cordelia a word of thanks.  _ More time to figure out how she won’t find out what we’re doing.  _

What if Cordelia didn’t want Nan to come back?  _ Nah, that’s stupid. Of course Cordelia wants Nan back. She wouldn’t let any of us get hurt on purpose.  _ She didn’t know why it concerned her so much, why it felt so wrong. The hair on the back of her neck stood up whenever she thought about it. She sensed something about Nan’s death unlike the other deaths she had reversed, something infinitely darker and more complicated. It tasted like rotten fish in the back of her throat.  _ I promised Queenie. I owe it to Nan.  _ Nan was her friend. She couldn’t just leave her. She had revived Madison, after all; she’d be a downright shitty person if she didn’t make an effort for Nan.

Stepping into the bathroom, Misty started to close the door, but then she glanced back out at Cordelia. Cordelia couldn’t see her. Misty liked showering in a real house—and getting clean with real soap instead of the weird goat soap she stole off the organic farmer a few miles away from her shack—but she hated how the steam clogged up the room. “Do you mind if I leave the door open?” It seemed polite to ask. Even if Cordelia couldn’t see, she could probably smell the steam and soap. 

Cordelia hesitated. “Yes—Yes, that’s fine.” 

Misty stripped off her dirty clothes and stepped into the shower, quickly turning on the water. The cold stream hit her, and it took a few seconds for the jets to warm, but she didn’t mind. She had felt colder things in her time in the swamp. As the water heated, she dipped her hair beneath it. The blonde locks quickly soaked through. She tilted her head back into the warm water and scored her fingernails down her scalp to scrape off the dirt and shreds of tree bark that had stuck to it.  _ No ticks. City living.  _ It felt strange, bathing and finding no ticks on her body. 

She didn’t miss them, though. 

Grabbing a bottle of shampoo, she lathered up her hair and leaned against the back wall of the shower, relishing in the warmth. She could breathe freely as the steam billowed out into the bedroom.  _ I don’t want to waste all the hot water.  _ Her moment of relishing passed like the wind, and she finished scrubbing out her hair and rinsed it. Cordelia used a fluffy loofa instead of the regular washcloth Misty preferred.  _ I can’t believe I’m using her loofa.  _ She sucked on her lower lip as she grabbed it and squirted some liquid into it. The soap smelled like Cordelia. A shiver passed down Misty’s spine as she lathered it up and rubbed it over her body. 

Using the loofa, Misty carefully picked the grit from the cuts on her hands and knees and the soles of her feet. It stung under the hot water. Lifting her fingers to her teeth, she scraped the dirt out from under each fingernail with her teeth, spitting out the build up into the floor of the shower. Was it weird for her to do this in Cordelia’s shower?  _ Nah, I do this every time I shower.  _ She rubbed her face. It felt cleaner here than in the other bathroom. Because fewer people used it? Misty didn’t know for certain. She didn’t really care, either. Cleanliness was nice, but it mattered less to her than it did to some other people. Her brief stint of swamp living had lowered her standards. 

With the shower curtain closed, the steam caught the scent of Cordelia’s soap, so it smelled like Cordelia was in the shower stall with her. Misty closed her eyes and imagined it was so, just for a moment. Cordelia stood next to her under the hot jet of water. Her hands landed on Misty’s waist, on her bare hips, moving upward to the junction where her torso met her limb. Cordelia grinned as her fingers tangled up in the tuft of hair beneath Misty’s arm. Her breath curled against Misty’s cheek. Misty grunted and tilted her head upward, as if to kiss the fantasy.  _ Stop it! _

The thought jarred her out of the daydream. She jerked the shower knob off so she had no chance to fall back into her strange fantasy.  _ Now I’ve got to keep Cordelia from Seeing that.  _ It seemed more embarrassing for Cordelia to learn of her brief dream than for her to discover Misty’s intentions to sneak out with Queenie. How would she explain that she had accidentally imagined Cordelia in the shower with her?  _ Well, at least I didn’t think about how she would look naked.  _ But that thought caused her to wonder. Shivering, she jumped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. 

The coarse towel scrubbed over Misty’s hairy legs and chafed the hair the wrong way. The irritation made her prickle with discomfort. She rubbed the scrapes on her feet and knees and hands and dressed herself while she dried the floor, and then she wrung on her hair one final time to ensure its dryness. She left it damp and gathered up her dirty clothes. She carried them to the hamper.  _ I’ll do Cordelia’s laundry for her tomorrow.  _ It was the least she could do. Cordelia had opened her room to Misty, and in return, Misty fantasized about her in the shower. 

As she thought about it, Misty shuddered. It felt  _ dirty.  _ She didn’t deserve to think about Cordelia like that! She had no right. She had already messed up once today. 

“That was fast.” Cordelia’s words interrupted Misty’s thoughts. She blinked at her reflection in the mirror briefly and dragged her hands through her hair. “Are you alright?” Cordelia patted the mattress beside her. 

Misty nodded. “I’m fine. Your shower’s nice.” She didn’t like her reflection. She looked too gaunt. Turning on her heel, she followed the sight of Cordelia’s beckoning hand and crawled onto the bed beside her. Cordelia’s invitation lowered Misty’s inhibitions. “The one the girls use is like having somebody pee on you. You gotta run around in there to get fully wet.” Cordelia chuckled. Misty studied her in the lamplight. The light illuminated her smile. The happy crinkles at the corners of Cordelia’s face and eyes warmed Misty’s soul.  _ I wish Cordelia would smile and laugh all the time.  _

“I’m aware of the situation in that bathroom. I grew up in there. It’s a rite of passage.”

“So if you take enough pee showers, you get to become headmistress and use the good bathroom?” 

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline, and she laughed some more. “Well, maybe not exactly… I hope no one plans on replacing me anytime soon.” The open book rested in her lap. She pressed the tip of her finger to a line of dots, but a sigh fluttered from her lips, its tone exhausted and frustrated.  _ Looks like the same page she was on before.  _ Misty couldn’t tell for certain. Cordelia fingered the guide beside her. It didn’t seem to aid her. 

Misty didn’t know an appropriate way to ask. “What are you reading?” 

“It’s  _ The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe.  _ I thought I knew it well enough that I could teach myself to read it, but…” Cordelia closed the book with the guide tucked between its pages. “I got lost in the first chapter.”

A frown touched Misty’s lips. She scanned Cordelia’s book shelf from across the room, even as Cordelia peeled the covers back on the bed for her to slide beneath them. “I can’t help you read Braille.” The dim light obscured the titles, but she held out her hand and called the title in her mind, and a tome whizzed off of the shelf into her hand. It landed in her palm. “But I can read letters to you.” 

Ducking her head, Cordelia’s eyes glistened. Her mutilated eyes shone a strange light. “Oh, Misty, I couldn’t ask that of you.” 

Curled beneath the lamp, Misty opened the book to the first chapter. “You didn’t ask. I owe you one, anyway, being I’m in your bed and all.” She glanced up to Cordelia, and then she patted her pillow, encouraging her to lie down.  _ If I read until she falls asleep, I won’t have anything to worry about.  _ And she wanted to make Cordelia happy. More than anything, she wanted to make Cordelia happy and see more of her smile. Cordelia hadn’t struck her as the type to like fairytales. It was a pleasant surprise. “Once, there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy…” 

Cordelia settled upon the pillows just as Misty had encouraged with her patting hand. A soft mewling sound emerged from the back of her throat, so quiet Misty thought she might have imagined it, but the strangely satisfied look on Cordelia’s face confirmed it. The day’s troubles melted off of her as Misty read aloud.  _ She really does love to read.  _ The numerous books through the house—those were Cordelia’s, she now assumed. Misty lay down beside Cordelia and held the book up to the lamp, continuing to read. “As soon as they had said good night to the Professor and gone upstairs on the first night, the boys came into the girls’ room and they all talked it over…” 

Many years had passed since Misty last read this particular book; she thought she had read it in the third grade by choice and then in fifth by necessity and not since then. She continued through the story. The large font and small pages made it quick, easy work. The simple sentences amused her. By the time she turned the page to the beginning of the second chapter, she glanced down to find that Cordelia had fallen asleep, eyes closed and lips parted. Misty’s heart softened at the sight of her. Breath whistled from her open mouth. Temptation rose in Misty to tuck Cordelia’s hair behind her ear, but she didn’t dare reach out and touch her. Instead, she leaned over to turn off the light and settled on the bed. She had a few hours before Queenie would expect her downstairs. 

With her eyes open, Misty gazed upward at the ceiling, the shadows from the window dancing up there. She picked out shapes from them where they quivered and migrated left to right across the strange plaster ceiling. They leapt like flames.  _ I don’t like that.  _ Closing her eyes, Misty gulped. Her throat felt tight all of a sudden for no reason at all. 

Cordelia rolled over and put her arm around Misty’s waist.  _ Oh, fuck.  _ Misty anxiously scrambled to clear her mind. Would Cordelia’s Sight work in her sleep? Misty didn’t want to find out. Swallowing hard, she licked her lips. Perhaps she should have left when she had the opportunity, but now, she felt she couldn’t budge without disturbing Cordelia.  _ She smells good. And her skin is soft.  _ Misty’s hand hesitantly brushed the top of Cordelia’s. Was it worth the exchange, she wondered, if she got to touch and hold Cordelia like this? She wasn’t certain, but she liked it. 

Soft cheek on Misty’s chest, a quiet snore brushed from Cordelia’s lips. Her caramel-toned hair, gray-black in the darkness, spilled across Misty’s body. Misty inclined her head slightly to inhale the scent attached to her hair. Cordelia was so kind to her, and so beautiful, and so smart. Misty didn’t know what she had done to deserve such a good friend. 

_ Friend?  _ Was that the right word? Were her feelings for Cordelia friendship?  _ Of course they are.  _ She had never had good friends before; she didn’t have an experience in this area. But now she brushed her fingers over Cordelia’s hair and tucked the stray locks behind her ears, tidying it up as it became messier from the night, and she admired the beauty in the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of her nose, barely visible in the light. 

Like minutes, the hours passed, and Misty kept fingering Cordelia’s hair until the red numbers on the clock turned over to the hour Queenie had specified. Misty cleared her throat. Cordelia held onto her, her arm strung across her waist.  _ Let me just slide out from under her.  _ Closing her hand around Cordelia’s arm, Misty gingerly pushed it off of her. Cordelia turned her head. “Sh…” Misty soothed her as she wiggled to the side, attempting to free herself. 

The sound disturbed Cordelia. Her hand whipped out and closed around Misty’s wrist. Bloodshot eyes shot open. She gasped into wakefulness, sitting bolt upright. “When are you leaving?” 

_ Oh, fuck.  _ There was no point in lying. A weak chuckle tittered out of Misty. “Hey, Miss Cordelia…” She bit her lower lip, hesitated a moment, and then answered, “Right now. Going to get dressed and meet Queenie.” 

Cordelia swung out of bed. “I’m coming with you.”

“Er… Queenie didn’t approve that, and it’s kinda her thing…”

“I’m coming with you,” Cordelia said again. “I want to be there.” Uneasy, Misty’s eyes went downward, and she shrugged, allowing Cordelia to climb out of the bed. She couldn’t argue with that. She enjoyed every minute she got to spend with Cordelia. “It should have been a priority days ago.” 

Misty opened her trunk and dressed herself with her back turned to Cordelia—just to be respectful, she supposed, since Cordelia couldn’t see her anyway. When she turned around again, Cordelia had already dressed herself, put on her shoes, and grabbed her cane. “You really don’t have to come,” Misty said. “We got it covered. You can stay here and sleep.” She gave a lopsided smile, but even as she spoke, Cordelia shook her head. 

“I wasn’t there when Nan died. This is the least I can do for her.”

“There you go, carrying the weight of the world again.” Misty offered her arm. Cordelia took it. “If I’m the Supreme, I’m gonna Supreme your ass into taking a vacation.” 

Cordelia laughed, but it was a sad sound. “I’m not exactly in fit condition to see the wonders of the world anymore.” Misty tilted her head down, wanting to smell Cordelia’s hair like she had in the bed, but Cordelia moved her head, and Misty didn’t dare pursue, much as she craved the artificial floral scent. 

They made their way down the stairs, where Queenie waited at the mouth of the house, lingering in the doorway. She scowled at the sight of Cordelia. “You told her?” 

“You try lying to somebody who can read your mind.” 

Queenie rolled her eyes. “C’mon. It took you long enough. We’re losing moonlight.”

They settled in Queenie’s car. The roads were silent under the streetlights casting pale light and shadows at ethereal intervals. Cordelia’s face under the lights, illuminated then dark, mystified Misty, who stared across the seats at her and gazed at her own reflection in Cordelia’s sunglasses.  _ She’s beautiful.  _ Her hair fell messily around her shoulders. An inexplicable urge to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear rose in Misty. She kept right on staring at Cordelia.  _ I hope I am the Supreme. I’ll protect her. Never let anybody mess with her ever again.  _ Misty’s heart skipped a beat as she considered it. All that responsibility? On her shoulders? She couldn’t fathom having anyone look up to her or listen to her for advice.  _ But to protect Cordelia?  _ To ensure Madison never talked down to her, to ensure she never lost another student to the cruelties of the world against witches, to ensure she never met another abusive man, to ensure she never had her Supreme belittle her for doing her best… To protect Cordelia, Misty would do anything in the world. 

_ Is that normal?  _ Misty hadn’t had strong friendships like this before, but she felt it was, even with the uncomfortable prickling on the back of her neck and in her stomach. Her eyes landed on Cordelia’s hand where it rested on the seat between them. It laid on its back with the palm upturned.  _ I want to hold her hand.  _ Clearing her throat, Misty deliberately looked away. The need to interrupt the silence burbled inside of her. “Do we have a plan?”

“Bust her out, bring her back, go home,” Queenie said. “That’s the plan.” She turned in front of the cemetery and parked on the street. The gates were closed and locked. “Ever plan on becoming a graverobber?” 

“Been one my whole life.”

“Of course you have.” 

“Girls,” Cordelia placated.  _ Girls.  _ A slight blush rose to Misty’s cheeks. “We need to hurry.”

“We didn’t see any groundskeepers the last time.”

“That doesn’t mean we won’t this time.” Cordelia unbuckled herself and opened the car door. She started to slide out of the seat, but Misty grabbed her back for a car to rumble past them. The moonlight streamed through the windows of the car, barely illuminating Cordelia’s astonished features. “Thanks.” Misty clung to her bicep for another car, afraid to relinquish her. “Is it safe now?” Cordelia’s voice was smaller than before. 

Sliding after her, Misty nudged her. “Yeah, it’s fine.” She kept a hand on Cordelia’s arm to steady her. “When you said you might walk out in traffic, I kind of assumed you were kidding, you know,” she teased, hoping to allay some of Cordelia’s concern, but in the silver moonlight, the frown upon Cordelia’s lips only became more apparent. “Are you alright?” She asked the question quieter when Cordelia’s preoccupied look didn’t pass. 

The question stirred her a little. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” She stepped behind the car. Her cane bumped the sidewalk, and she stepped up onto it. “Which way is the gate?” 

“Waiting for both of you!” Queenie called from in front of the cemetery gates. She sounded bored. Misty allowed Cordelia to hold onto her arm, and she didn’t rush her in spite of Queenie’s impatience. The cracked sidewalk took some navigation for Cordelia and her cane.  _ I won’t let her trip. _ Misty watched her feet. “I feel like I’m watching a retelling of the tortoise and the hare.” Queenie’s sharp words didn’t distract Misty. 

Chains were wrapped around the cemetery gates. Queenie jangled the padlock, but while the iron wrought gates moved, the lock refused to open. “It wasn’t like that the last time,” Cordelia whispered. She squeezed Misty’s arm tighter. “Can you open it?” 

“I can bust it.”

“ _ Non! _ We can’t vandalize a cemetery!  _ Bon dieu,  _ what’s wrong with you?” Misty protested. 

“Well, what do you recommend?”

The silence echoed under the black universe stretching above them, speckled with faint stars. The full moon glowed. Even the crickets had quieted with the late hour and returned to their sleep. The night left nothing to touch them but the wind. Unlike the forest that Misty called home, the city had no life to interact with them in the late hour. The hair on the back of her neck spiked with the lack of interaction. The city, its silence, its own form of noise, disturbed her. The life-sounds of the forest brought her comfort, and without them, she expected the shadows to leap out of the earth at her face. 

Cordelia interrupted her mental rendition of  _ Paranormal Activity _ . “Unlock it.” Only the wind answered her at first, so she repeated, “Unlock it. You can do it.” 

Queenie put her hands on her hips. “With what key?” 

“Misty, do it.” 

The direct instruction took Misty aback. Unlock the padlock? She hadn’t done anything so dexterous with her telekinesis before.  _ I’m not even sure I could bust the gates, like Queenie said.  _ She hadn’t tried anything of this nature. But Cordelia told her, and she would do nothing to deny Cordelia. Closing her eyes, she pushed herself forward. Her magic bled from her throat and her stomach, pulsing in her trunk. It slithered into the padlock. She could  _ feel _ the inside of the steel trap, an extension of herself clawing into the mess of gears and springs. Then, opening her mind, a heavy exhale pushed from between her lips. The padlock clinked. It opened and fell to the ground. 

Closing her hands around the cold link chain, Queenie peeled it off and dropped it to the ground, allowing the iron wrought gates to swing wide open. Misty followed her onto the cement walk. Their footsteps echoed in the silence of the night, only interrupted by the occasional rumble of a motorist on the street. If anyone saw them, no one indicated anything. “This way to Nan’s grave.” Queenie ducked between the tombstones and moved among them like of the shadows of the scattered trees. 

The words,  _ Nan’s grave, _ set a string of goosebumps all over Misty’s body. They felt  _ wrong.  _ They tasted wrong on the back of her tongue. Nan shouldn’t have a grave. Nan was younger than her. A thickness rose to the back of her throat.  _ I still don’t know what happened to her.  _ No one had told her anything. 

“She fell in the tub,” Cordelia whispered. 

“Really?” 

Cordelia hesitated. “Since you ask… I’m not sure.” Misty looked away. Of course she wasn’t sure. No one could be sure. Fiona had wreaked havoc on the coven. Who knew what had happened to Nan? “It—It probably wasn’t as simple as Fiona led us to believe.”

“Fiona killed her!” Queenie snapped, dragging them from their silent reverie. The overgrown grass caught on Cordelia’s cane and tripped her in places, but she held tight to Misty’s arm, and Misty kept pace with her, not going faster or slower. “Don’t act like you don’t know. Nan was too strong, she knew too much, and Fiona had to get rid of her. Fiona  _ always _ had to get rid of someone. It was Nan’s turn. Fiona had used her, and then it was time for her to go, just like the rest of us.” Cordelia flinched at the sharpness to Queenie’s tone, but as Misty opened her mouth to snap back venomously, Cordelia squeezed her arm to placate her. Misty fell back into her sullen silence. 

Halting before a heavy brick headstone, almost illegible in the dark, Queenie stared down at the plot of dirt. The grass was still just starting to creep up over the soil; it was too fresh for the flora to have overtaken the plot yet. “Help me,” Queenie said. 

Misty held out her arm. The other one was safe in Cordelia’s grasp. Together, in synchronization, their magics extended from their bodies. Misty’s curled into the dirt, her true home, and sank its fingers into it. The earth trembled. The dust bounced, and then it rolled away, off of the wooden casket, deeper and deeper into the world which had swallowed Nan whole until it revealed her final resting place again to the eyes of the universe and the two sighted witches. 

Misty plunged the heel of one boot into the splintered wood. It buckled. Shreds of it sprayed through the air and landed on the soft soil. She kicked the lid of the coffin open and knelt beside the corpse. A faint scent was attached to it—rotting, but not rotted. Nan wasn’t yet in the same condition Madison had been in. Misty could handle it. “Can I have some light?”

Cordelia took her cell phone from her purse. She spoke to it, and the flashlight came on. She pointed it right at Misty’s back. “Good?”

“To the left?” Cordelia obeyed. The light landed on Nan’s slightly discolored face. Misty knelt over the coffin and pressed her hands to her stomach, which had bloated and swollen with gases and rot. The smell didn’t bother her. Misty had handled much deader things than Nan.  _ But I can’t feel her soul.  _ The tether which always held souls to bodies, which connected them, had been severed. She pressed her palms up higher, to Nan’s chest.  _ Maybe that’s where she carries her magic. Maybe she carries it somewhere else.  _ The faint glow that shone to her whenever she drew a soul back into its shell did not appear. 

Above her, Queenie purred, “Something wrong?” The moonlight cast her face in shadow, but even without clear light, Misty could make out the scowl upon her face. Her heart skipped a beat. Queenie wouldn’t forgive her if something happened to Nan. 

She cleared her throat. “Nah. Nah, of course not.”  _ Just bring her back. It’s not that hard.  _ Bowing over her still body, she summoned her magic. It danced from the pit of her stomach up through her chest into her throat and pulsed, thrumming, glowing, as it throbbed into her fingertips and then into Nan’s body. It pushed into her bloated skin under the pretty dress the mortician had put on her and spread like a fire over a dry bushland. 

A long breath gusted into Nan’s body. Her torso rose and fell as she inhaled. With her exhale, Queenie sighed as well, dropping down beside her on the dirt. “She’s breathing.” Warm breath pulsed against Misty’s hand. “Nan? Can you hear me?” Nan didn’t move. Her eyelashes didn’t flutter. She didn’t stir. “Nan?” Misty took her wrist and felt her pulse—weak and fluttering. “What’s wrong with her?” 

“I don’t know. Her soul’s not coming back.”

“Her soul?”

“The soul thread, the—the tether. Hers is gone. I can make her heart beat, but I can’t—I can’t find her soul. It’s been detached.”

Queenie scowled. The flashlight set off her features in harsh light. “ _ Detached? _ What the hell do you mean? What did Fiona do to her?”

“I don’t know. I was six feet under myself, if you didn’t notice.” 

“Cordelia? What was Fiona doing?” 

Cordelia hesitated. “I—I don’t know.” Misty peered back over her shoulder at Cordelia, where she stood, all willowy and thin in the breeze like it could blow her over if it tried hard enough. The flashlight shivered in her hand. “Fiona was seeking immortality. I don’t know what she might have done to achieve that end.” 

“Well, it didn’t work,” Misty said. 

Queenie muttered, “Clearly. What could Nan have had to do with that?” 

“I don’t know,” Cordelia repeated. In the faint light, she was almost a shadow, almost a specter. She lacked answers, and with every admission of that she gave, she buckled a little at the middle. She couldn’t protect them.  _ She feels helpless.  _

“What  _ do  _ you know?” Queenie’s frustration bled into her voice.

Misty defended Cordelia on reflex. “Leave her alone.”

Heavy footfalls through the grass silenced all of them. Misty sprang up from the coffin and took Cordelia’s phone. She flicked the screen on, trying to find the button to disable the flashlight, but she didn’t see it, so she covered it with the palm of her hand. A thin, astonished sound mewled in the back of Cordelia’s throat. Her hand closed around Misty’s upper arm. In the darkness, Misty’s eyes adjusted slowly. 

The city wasn’t like the swamp. The streetlights in the distance muffled her vision. She couldn’t make out the distant approaching figure with any clarity, and no trees stood to offer them shelter. They were exposed. “Who’s there?” The groundskeeper pointed his flashlight on them. “Freeze! Drop the body.” He took out his baton and swung it. It extended. 

“Run.” Nan’s corpse flopped heavily onto the earth with a sickening  _ thump _ . Her breath ceased. Queenie hurtled over the short gravestone and darted through the cemetery yard. She didn’t look back at Misty or Cordelia to see if either of them had managed more of a response than silence and staring. 

They hadn’t. Misty grabbed Cordelia by her wrist and broke off to the left, hauling Cordelia behind her. Cordelia’s cane caught on the long grass. She held it up above the earth. “Follow me!” Cordelia’s fingers zipped together with hers. Behind them, the groundskeeper’s flashlight chased them, casting a long shadow before them. In the darkness, Misty couldn’t make out Queenie’s outline, yards ahead of them.  _ She better not leave without us. _ Thoughtless, she flung herself over the statue of a lamb on a child’s grave. 

Cordelia’s clumsy feet spilled across the statue. Her hand ripped from Misty’s. She sprawled out on her gut with a gasp. All the air rushed from her lungs. She rolled onto her back, as if she could see her attacker. “Misty—” Misty screeched to a halt and skidded through the grass. The groundskeeper’s heavy footfalls made the earth tremble. Dropping to her knees beside Cordelia, Misty wrapped her hands around Cordelia’s bicep, trying to pull her up. “No, go—go—”

“I ain’t leaving you! Hold on, c’mon, are you hurt?” One of Cordelia’s arms strung around her neck. Cordelia’s hair mixed with her own. Their faces brushed. Misty wished it didn’t warm her so much. As one of Cordelia’s feet hit the ground, she hissed in pain. “Hey—Miss Cordelia?” 

“Stop!” 

The flashlight beamed into Misty’s face. She cringed back from it. Cordelia clung to her. “Misty?” 

“What are you doing out here?” 

In the dark, Misty couldn’t see his features. The light blinded her. She held up one hand, the one that wasn’t occupied with Cordelia. She cleared her throat.  _ What do I do? _ Nothing she could say could make this right. What explanation could she give for grave-robbing? Cordelia squeezed her arm tighter.  _ I got to protect her.  _ “Sir?” Cordelia was helpless. Misty had to keep her safe. Gulping, Misty focused on the dryness in her mouth and the way her magic pulsated around her tongue. “I’d like it if you take that light off of us now.” It floated from her mouth, invisible but crackling in the air like electricity. 

The beam of light trembled. He resisted. He didn’t speak—he couldn’t—but he didn’t buckle with ease under her will. Unlike Cordelia, he refused to allow her simple passage through his mind. “Take it off of us.” It danced around Misty’s ankles. “Put it away.” It flicked off. He replaced it on his belt. “I want you to turn around now. Put Nan back in the ground, and cover her over all proper, and forget we were here.”  _ I shouldn’t be leaving without her.  _ She didn’t have a choice.

The groundskeeper turned on his heel. His gait was stilted. Some part of him still resisted, but he didn’t have the strength to thwart her magic. Cordelia’s fingers dug into Misty’s upper arm. “Are you alright?” Misty asked. 

Slowly, Cordelia nodded. She gingerly placed her hurt foot on the ground. “I’m fine. It’s just bruised.” Misty doubted her, but Cordelia offered nothing else to her. Her grip on her cane was white-knuckled. “That was impressive.” 

“I was gonna try breathing fire on him next, if that didn’t work.”

Just as she intended, the words broke the tense reverie. Cordelia’s face cracked with laughter. “I’m glad you didn’t resort to that.” Misty guided her to the path. Cordelia limped, but she managed, and the broad path had no more obstacles like the statue to harm Cordelia. By the gates, Queenie waited with the motor idling and the lights on. 

“I was ready to leave y’all.” 

“Thanks for all the backup,” Misty grumbled. 

“You had it handled.” Silence followed. “What happened with Nan?” Queenie still didn’t drive away. 

Misty hesitated. “I think there’s something wrong with her soul. She went somewhere I can’t reach her.” 

“How could that happen?” 

Misty looked at Cordelia, hoping for some answer, because she didn’t know. Cordelia licked the front of her teeth. “There are some forms of magic that require sacrifices… including the souls of the innocent. It is possible that Fiona may have—she may have done something in an attempt to get what she wanted.”

“Fiona used Nan as a bartering chip, and now we can’t get her back.” 

“I’m afraid…” 

“Fucking brilliant.” Queenie punched the steering wheel. 

They rode home without another word, with no sound but the motor interrupting their thoughts, as the first hints of dawn touched the horizon. 


	4. There's No Fire Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Fire Burning" by Stevie Nicks

Through the window of the living room, a light illuminated the curtains. Misty sucked on her lower lip at the sight, glancing over to Cordelia in the other seat. Their shoes were dirty. Cordelia’s pants were torn where she had fallen. “Myrtle’s awake,” Cordelia said.  _ How do you know?  _ Misty wondered, and though she didn’t ask and Cordelia wasn’t touching her, Cordelia answered, “She has a bat’s hearing. She probably heard us pull out when we left.” 

Queenie parked the vehicle in the driveway. “So you’ll distract her while I sneak in through the back? Great, thanks.” She hopped out with the keys and headed around the back of the house without a word, her filthy shoes crunching along over the pavement. In the moonlight, she hunched over with defeat. Misty’s insides stabbed with guilt. Why hadn’t she been able to revive Nan? It seemed so simple. It  _ always _ was so easy. There was the strand, and she grabbed it, and like a lighthouse on the ocean, she guided her ships back to shore. Nan’s body was still in good condition. What had happened? 

The scent of the cool, crisp night air stimulated Misty’s nose. Cordelia stood outside the car. “Are you coming, Misty?” Misty brightened at the summoning and slid after her across the seat. Cordelia took her arm. “Are you alright? You’re quiet.”

“I’m just tired.”  _ I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  _ Misty followed the cracked sidewalk up to the porch. Cordelia’s cane led her up the stairs, and Misty didn’t rush her through the front door. 

If Cordelia doubted her words, she didn’t say it. Cordelia was touching her—she knew. But Misty appreciated her silence. She hadn’t yet worked through things herself. 

Myrtle waited on the sofa for them with her legs crossed. “Where on earth have the two of you been?” Misty gulped and glanced sideways at Cordelia, waiting for her to answer. “You’re both filthy. This is no time to be foraying out in the woods! Surely you must realize it’s dangerous out there. We have no Supreme to protect us.” Curling her toes in her shoes, Misty wondered if she could escape, leave Cordelia to handle the brunt of it like Queenie had done, but Cordelia squeezed her arm a little tighter. “Especially, Delia, in your frail state.” Misty flinched. 

“I’m blind, not immunocompromised.” 

“Where have you been?” 

“Graverobbing!” Misty said all too brightly. “The cemetery groundskeeper caught us, so we enchanted him and came home. Better luck next time, right, Miss Cordelia?” She tried to make a break for it, but Cordelia didn’t budge. She planted her heels hard and refused to move her weight off of them. 

Myrtle’s deadpan expression didn’t shift. “Is that the case?”

“We were looking for Nan,” Cordelia explained. 

Pausing, Myrtle looked back at Cordelia. “Then where is she?” 

_ I don’t know.  _ Sucking her lower lip, Misty averted her eyes, almost hoping Cordelia would explain for her. She knew Cordelia wouldn’t. It was her duty and hers alone to explain what had happened, why her magic wasn’t working. “Her soul was gone. I couldn’t bring her back… Somebody ripped her away from her body. Like taking a snail out of its shell.” Myrtle tilted her head thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. I wanted to help. We weren’t in any danger.”  _ I’d actually kill someone before I let them hurt Cordelia.  _ “I don’t know what happened to Nan, but—it’s not something that I can fix. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

Myrtle hesitated. “It isn’t your fault, Misty.” In the dim lamplight, Myrtle’s hair was almost auburn, like lava burbled up from the earth. “Fiona and Marie Laveau were collaborating on some projects… Dark magic.” 

“What were they seeking?” Cordelia asked. “I never thought Fiona would…” She trailed off. She had no good end to that sentence. Every time she had established a limit to Fiona’s possible horror, Fiona somehow exceeded it. There was no bar for Fiona. 

“Fiona would do anything. She wanted immortality.” The last word dribbled like cold water into the pit of Misty’s stomach. “You know that. Fiona wanted power. She wanted to live forever. She wasn’t willing to give that up for anyone.”  _ Not even for her daughter.  _ Misty’s throat collected saliva. It was thick, heavy, tasted gritty. “She believed she could confer with Papa Legba and earn immortality in exchange for a sacrifice. The same that Marie Laveau did.”

Misty’s brow quirked in confusion. “But Fiona died. She didn’t get immortality. What good did killing Nan serve her?” 

“I believe that was more for Marie Laveau’s benefit than Fiona’s.” Misty arched an eyebrow at Myrtle, hoping for her to elaborate, but she crossed her arms in her silence. Clearing her throat, she said, “I do not know the specifics of anyone’s deals with Papa Legba. But he is a deity. It’s to be expected. You cannot trick him.” She scanned them. “You’re both filthy. You’ve ruined your good clothing… Not that it was ever a fashion  _ do _ in the first place. It’s after midnight. You should go to bed.” 

It was a clear dismissal. Misty took it. She didn’t want to stay any longer than she already had. “Goodnight.” This time, when she tried to walk away, Cordelia followed her, repeating the soft word to Myrtle. Their feet on the stairs made little noise. Cordelia’s tapping cane made the only repeated sound as she found the surface of each stair and then climbed higher. 

In the dark and the silence, the academy seemed much calmer. The hair on the back of Misty’s neck stood up.  _ Bad vibes.  _ She gulped, trying to clear that thought from her mind. She had overcome it. She belonged with the coven. She belonged with Cordelia.  _ But I don’t feel like I am the Supreme.  _ She halted outside of Cordelia’s bedroom. “I’m gonna get cleaned up in the other bathroom. Don’t wanna ruin your good wash rags.” 

Cordelia reached for her hand. “I don’t mind,” she insisted. 

“I do.”

“But you’ll come back?” 

Cordelia seemed to care an awful lot about her whereabouts. Misty smiled. The tension in the pit of her belly dissipated a little. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Gimme ten minutes.” When they pulled away, her chest was lighter. She didn’t understand why Cordelia had that effect upon her, but she loved it. She loved every minute. 

…

When next Misty opened her eyes, she bathed in bright yellow sunlight in the center of Cordelia’s bed. “Huh?” she snorted aloud, jolting out of her sleep. The high sun, nearing noon, alarmed her, but not as much as Cordelia’s absence. She fanned out across the mattress in an X shape, certainly leaving no room for Cordelia to join her.  _ On her own bed! I kicked her out of her own bed! _ As Misty sat up, her hair tumbled around her face in messy, tangled clumps of madness. Her nightgown had rolled up around her thighs and was stuck to her body with sweat. She rolled out of bed and made it up, and then she headed across the floor to her trunk.

Across the room, a couple cardboard boxes spilling over with pictures and personal effects littered the floor.  _ Those weren’t there last night.  _ She must have slept like the dead to have missed Cordelia moving those around. Nosiness rose in her, but she didn’t head across the room to examine them. It was none of her business.

Stripping out of her nightgown, Misty tossed it into the hamper.  _ I promised I’d do her laundry today.  _ She owed Cordelia after all the mess they’d endured yesterday. 

Footsteps outside the door startled her. Cordelia knocked twice, and then she pushed into her room. Misty whirled around, dropping her shirt, and she fumbled to cover her breasts. She met the eyes of her reflection in Cordelia’s sunglasses.  _ Oh. Right.  _ “Morning, Miss Cordelia!” At the brightness of Misty’s voice, Cordelia flinched.  _ Too loud.  _

“I’m sorry—I thought you were still asleep.” Cordelia dipped her head and cleared her throat. “Good morning. It’s almost lunchtime.”

Misty hastily scrambled into her clothes before Cordelia could realize she had walked in on her naked. “Right—sorry. I didn’t mean to oversleep. Just beat from last night. Apparently running around the cemetery really wore me out.” She glanced down. Cordelia’s ankle was bruised, but not swollen, and she wasn’t limping. “You alright?” she asked anyway. Cordelia seemed pensive.  _ Why wouldn’t she be? I couldn’t fix Nan. _ It grated in Misty’s bones. Myrtle had told them that the sacrifice of a soul could have torn Nan away from them. But Misty had never failed before, not at that. Her magic was all she had, all she could rely on. If it failed her, she had nothing left. 

Clammy hands fumbled around the handle of Cordelia’s cane. “Yes… Of course.”  _ That doesn’t sound convincing. _ “Are you?”

_ Maybe I’m not the Supreme.  _ Cordelia had wanted so badly for her to be the Supreme, but if she couldn’t even help Nan, what good was she? “Yeah, I’m alright.” She couldn’t be silly enough to make those kinds of assumptions. Fiona messed with dark magic—something Misty knew nothing about. She couldn’t know why her magic had failed. “I’m gonna put some laundry to wash.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

“Nah, I’m doing it. Owe you one, letting me sleep in here and everything.”

“I like your company.”

A tiny smile curled onto Misty’s lips as she recalled how, the night before, Cordelia had strewn an arm across her in her sleep and clung to her, so sweet and sleepy. Misty regretted that she had needed to get up and leave. She wondered if it had happened again, when she was asleep and didn’t realize.  _ I hope it did. _ As she studied Cordelia in the late morning light streaming through the window, her heart fluttered up through her ribcage and floundered around like a tossing fish. The light caught her pretty hair and illuminated the freckles on her face. Had she always been so beautiful?  _ Yes, of course. She took my breath away yesterday, too.  _ Misty grinned dumbly at the thought.

Cordelia interrupted her thoughts. “Misty?” 

_ Oh.  _ “Uh—right. Yeah, I like you, too. Your company.” Misty bounced the hamper full of dirty clothes on her hip. “I’ll just throw these in the wash.” She blushed. How had she allowed herself to become such a mess? Cordelia was magnetic and beautiful, but Misty had no place to think about her like that.

To her surprise, Cordelia followed her down the hallway to the back stairs which led to the basement. “Misty?” 

She hesitated at the mouth of the stairs so Cordelia could take her arm. She tried to clear her mind. She didn’t want Cordelia to See any of what she had thought. “Mhm?” 

“I just wanted to thank you, again, for last night… You didn’t need to do what you did to help me.”

“Of course I did. I wouldn’t have left you for the whole world.” 

“You could’ve been put in danger.”

“You _ were _ in danger.” Misty landed on the floor of the basement. “You think I’m the Supreme. It’s gonna be my job to risk my life for other people. I was just practicing.” Cordelia released her arm at the base of the stairs. Misty headed across the floor and started the washing machine, pouring in the fabric softener. “Do you care if I do all the colors and whites nonsense?” 

In spite of herself, Cordelia chuckled, arching one eyebrow. “No, that’s not a requirement.”

“I’ve never separated colors and whites before in my life, and I’ll just say the washing machine never exploded in protest. My mama acted like it would, but it didn’t.”

The sounds of the running water lulled Misty as she dropped the laundry into it. Cordelia shuffled nearer to her with the additional noise.  _ I wonder if they make a quieter one. She could benefit from that.  _ Cordelia asked, “Are you ready to keep working this afternoon?”

Misty perked up. “Yeah!” She remembered the boxes on the floor of Cordelia’s bedroom.  _ Does that have something to do with it?  _ she wondered, but then she decided not to ask, just in case it was irrelevant—she didn’t want to seem nosy. “What are we doing today?”

To her surprise, Cordelia balked at the question. “We’ll talk after lunch,” she hedged. “And decide where to go from where we are now. Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay.” Cordelia’s vague terms left Misty unsettled. What reason could Cordelia have to be so secretive? Misty couldn’t fathom it. Cordelia had never been less than forthright with her before.  _ None of what we’ve done so far has been dangerous, not really.  _ Misty had put Cordelia in danger by making her climb the tree, but that was her fault, not inherent to the magic itself.  _ But some of the magic is more dangerous. _ An uncomfortable prickle on the back of her neck rose up. She tried to push it away. Cordelia would never deliberately put her in harm’s way. It had to be something else. “What’s for lunch? Who’s cooking?” She changed the subject to get her mind off of Cordelia’s secrecy. 

“Myrtle and Zoe were working on spaghetti.” 

“That sounds good.” Misty closed the lid to the washing machine. “Have you seen Queenie?”  _ Seen. _ Misty started to clear her throat, prepared to amend her tactless words, but Cordelia answered her question without hindrance. 

“No. They said she went out with Madison. They’re supposed to be back after lunch.” 

Misty’s lip curled. “If Queenie doesn’t come back, we’ll know what happened to her,” she muttered. She stared down at the lid of the washing machine with her face drawn. “I disappointed her. I need to apologize.”

One of Cordelia’s soft hands caressed the inside of Misty’s elbow. “Misty…” Cordelia trailed off. She removed her hand suddenly, like something on Misty’s skin had burned her. Her cheeks flushed. Misty narrowed her eyes at her quizzically.  _ What did she See? _ She wanted to ask. She bit the tip of her tongue to keep from speaking out of turn. Cordelia’s magic was her own, and she wasn’t obligated to share if she didn’t want to. A flush melted all over Cordelia’s cheeks. She shook herself, but the blush didn’t abate. “You can’t blame yourself… Fiona killed Nan, not you.” 

Misty averted her eyes. “Nan was my friend. I brought back Madison, but I couldn’t bring back Nan… And I owe Queenie.” She paused, considering. “I’ve never failed before.”

In the darkness of the basement, her reflection in Cordelia’s sunglasses was more faint than before, and she couldn’t make out Cordelia’s mutilated eyes behind the lenses. “You didn’t fail. Fiona did something to Nan’s soul… You can’t expect to heal a soul. Magic doesn’t work that way.” 

“Well, I don’t like it.” 

A tender smile touched Cordelia’s face. “Me, neither.” She touched Misty’s hand. This time, she didn’t flinch or pull away at the touch of her skin. Misty wondered what had caused such a visceral reaction before. She wanted to ask, and she trampled on the urge like on a cockroach under her boot. She was nosy. “Let’s go get something to eat, okay? You need to think about something else.”

“Do you think there’s any hope for her?” If anyone knew, if anyone had a clue, it was Cordelia. Cordelia knew more about magic than all of the other girls combined—maybe she even knew more than Myrtle. Misty wouldn’t underestimate her. 

She paused at the mouth of the stairs. “I don’t know, Misty. I just don’t know.” She tapped at the first stair with her cane. Misty offered her her arm, and she held on tight. “Time will tell. Don’t worry about it right now.” 

_ Easier said than done. _ Time made the tether from body to soul weaker and weaker with every second that passed. Misty was acutely aware of the time. It grated against her skin like grains of sand. “Right,” she whispered aloud. She licked her lips. Standing close to Cordelia made it easier, though—she smelled nice, and her voice was nice, and her breath was nice. Everything about Cordelia eased Misty’s existence. She appreciated it. Cordelia blushed slightly, but she didn’t remark upon Misty’s internal monologue, and Misty marched up the stairs, trying to think about anything else. “What’s with the boxes in your room?” 

“Hm?” Cordelia asked, perking up at the abrupt change in subject. 

“The cardboard boxes. On the floor.”  _ Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it. _ “I mean, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I just noticed them as I was getting dressed. I didn’t hear you moving anything around this morning, but I was sleeping pretty hard… Off in dream candyland, right?” 

“Oh.” Cordelia didn’t laugh. “Myrtle was reorganizing the attic. She brought down some things of mine, and I found some more in the closet. I thought we could use them this afternoon when we practice.”

“So it’s part of the secret?” 

Cordelia shrugged. “Mostly old family pictures. Old clothes. Heirlooms. You know.” She stumbled on the stairs. Misty caught her upper arm and helped her back up. “Sorry.” She made it to the landing. “Let’s get some lunch, alright?” 

As Misty walked she remembered what Cordelia had said about her footsteps. Was she really the lightest foot in the house? Cordelia seemed like the person to know. She liked the idea of Cordelia listening to her footsteps. She liked anything to do with Cordelia. It made her insides soft and gooey and warm. The smell of warm pasta sauce and cooking noodles was a welcome interruption to the musty scent of the basement mingled with laundry detergent. 

Zoe and Kyle were eating in the living room. Myrtle browsed a catalogue for expensive  clothing on the countertop, eating her spaghetti out of a bowl. She ate neatly with no splattered sauce anywhere. It almost made Misty envious. “Oh, Delia, Misty—how nice to see you both.” She smiled at them. “Are you both continuing your practice together?” 

Misty didn’t know what to say. Cordelia did. “Yes, this afternoon.” She hung back away from the stove before she hesitantly took a seat beside Myrtle without getting a bowl of food. Misty got two bowls out of the cabinet and filled them. She had no issue with making Cordelia’s food for her. 

“What’s on the magical menu?” 

“It’s a surprise.” 

_ Well, there are only seven wonders, _ Misty considered. She scraped out some sauce onto the bowls of noodles she had filled.  _ It can’t be much of a surprise.  _ She had already done concilium and telekinesis.  _ Maybe Cordelia wants to practice the telekinesis more.  _ Maybe Cordelia would have her move the big boxes around the room with her mind. That didn’t sound too difficult. But she already knew she could do telekinesis. Maybe Cordelia had something else in mind. 

Sprinkling some parmesan onto the spaghetti, Misty stuck a fork in it and put it in front of Cordelia. “Fork’s at three o’clock. It’s hot. Do you want something to drink?”

“Oh—” Cordelia blushed. Misty wondered if she had embarrassed her. “Thank you, Misty, you’re very sweet…” She grabbed the fork between her fingers and ducked her head. “You didn’t have to…” 

“Cordelia, dear,” Myrtle said with a shake of her head, “you wouldn’t eat otherwise, and Misty knows it.” She peeked up at Misty over her tea. “She likes the Big Red in the refrigerator, sweetie.” Misty got a can of it out of the fridge and put it beside Cordelia. 

Even the tips of Cordelia’s ears began to discolor. “Thank you, Misty.” She cleared her throat as she forked up some noodles. Misty watched her through bright eyes as she carefully weighed the spaghetti on the end of her fork. Then, she brought it to her lips and blew on it. It poked her in the side of the mouth. She swallowed in a graceless gulp and picked up a napkin to wipe around the corners of her lips. But then, she fumbled for her fork, picked it up, and tried again. 

Misty didn’t worry about her. She filled another bowl with the noodles and sauce, sprinkled cheese on them, and then she sat beside Cordelia with a glass of water and ate. 

Myrtle got up and put the spaghetti into some tupperware and put it in the fridge. “Don’t worry about the dishes, girls. I’ll do them later. You two have fun with your magic.” She patted Cordelia on the shoulder warmly. Cordelia smiled.  _ She looks happier with Myrtle than she ever did with Fiona.  _ Misty wondered about it. She wondered about her family, where they were now, without her. She wondered if they ever thought about her or if they had forgotten her completely in her absence.  _ I’ll never know. _ She could never go back to her family. They had to believe she was dead—they were safer that way, and so was she. 

Cordelia touched Misty’s arm. Misty perked up at the touch and turned to look at her. “Hm?” she asked.

“Nothing, I just…” Cordelia drifted off. Her brow fuddled as she Saw something. Misty waited. “I like touching you. It reminds me that you’re here. I’m sorry.” Whatever she Saw, she didn’t say. She took her hand away and kept eating. 

“Don’t apologize, I don’t mind.” Misty liked it when Cordelia touched her. She quickly scraped her bowl clean and washed it out and put it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

“Alright. Meet in my room in twenty minutes?” 

“Of course.” 

…

Twenty minutes later, Misty knocked twice on Cordelia’s closed bedroom door. “Come in, Misty, you don’t need to knock.” Misty brightened at the sound of her voice and pushed her way into the room. She closed the door behind her. Across the room, Cordelia had opened the large glass window, and before it on the floor rested the cardboard boxes—several of them, filled to the brim. The warm breeze wafted through the window screen and buffered against Misty’s legs. “You can look through it,” Cordelia said. 

In spite of the bright sunlight illuminating her face and casting her in an ethereal yellow glow, Cordelia wore a solemn look on her face. Misty dropped to her knees in front of the box. “What is it?” she asked.  _ She said it was just old family stuff, earlier.  _ Misty pulled out one book, a binder with photos snapped into it.  _ This one is a photo album.  _

She opened the first page. The first picture was Cordelia, smiling and glowing, hair done in an intricate braid, brown eyes warm and soft as tilled soil. She wore a long white gown—a bridal gown.  _ Oh, shit.  _ The next picture showed them together, Cordelia and Hank. Misty’s stomach did a barrel roll.  _ He was lying to her. He was lying the whole time.  _ The Cordelia in the pictures was so trusting and full of love. Hank kissed her, but he held her at arm’s length. 

The following pictures of their wedding Misty skimmed through, but the pictures didn’t end there. The album was nearly full. Someone had cared enough to document everything—and the delicate handwriting beside the pictures was definitely a woman’s. There was Hank and Cordelia posing together at a concert, Hank and Cordelia at the beach, Hank running around a green yard while Cordelia chased him with a can of shaving cream.  _ She loved him. _ In each of the pictures, Cordelia wore a broader smile than Misty had ever seen. 

Hank’s expression was questionable. Misty failed to see any of it as authentic.  _ Typical man. _ Misty kept turning the pages until she found the place the pictures ended, some flaps left behind in the back. The first empty page was labeled “Our Family” in Cordelia’s handwriting and dated, but no photographs had ever joined the heading. 

“What do you want me to do with this?” she asked in a low voice. She didn’t want to look through the rest of the boxes. This one was telling enough. 

The wind wafted through the screen and blew Cordelia’s dress around her knees. “Burn it.” 

Misty paused. She waited for Cordelia to laugh, to call out the joke, but she didn’t. Standing unsteadily, a deep frown etched itself onto Misty’s face. “Miss Cordelia, you can’t be serious… This stuff must mean a lot to you.” 

Cordelia shook her head. “It did once. But it doesn’t now.” 

In the bottom of the box, Misty spotted a flash of gold. She peeked into the corner.  _ Her wedding band.  _ Her stomach squeezed tight, and she swallowed to keep herself from questioning any more. “I—I don’t think I can, I don’t think…”  _ Burn it? _ The words brought flashes of firelight to the forefront of her mind where she didn’t like to look at them. Misty hitched a tight breath as suddenly, everything seemed much more pressing and real. 

A hand closed around Misty’s arm, steadying her. “You can. I know you can.” Misty almost flinched at the way Cordelia’s hand touched her. How could she do this? She didn’t know how to start a fire.  _ If I could control fire, I would’ve done it when I needed it.  _ She understood, now, why Cordelia had been reluctant to tell her about this. “Misty…” The sound of her own name curdled all of the hair on the back of her neck so it stood straight up. Cordelia said her name in such a sweet, special way. Her breath hitched in her throat. “You’re an incredibly powerful witch. I know you’re strong enough. I want you to do it.” 

These were remnants of Cordelia’s old life that she wanted to rid herself of.  _ And she wants me to do it for her.  _ The honor swelled inside of Misty. She was the tool of choice for Cordelia to destroy her old life, the old ways that had harmed her and lied to her and led her on. Misty was replacing all of these old things in Cordelia’s life. It was an  _ honor _ for her to be chosen as Cordelia’s friend. She had no right to turn it away now. Bobbing her head, she squinted down at the pile of items in front of her. Her throat felt swollen and tight. She gulped around the lump there. “How do I do it?” she asked Cordelia. 

“However it comes naturally.” 

_ It doesn’t come naturally at all.  _ Every fiber of Misty’s being told her otherwise, told her to run away, to flee from the mere suggestion of flames rising up before her. She had experienced the flame on her bare skin, and she had screamed until the carbon monoxide suffocated her, and then she had awoken into a shell and felt the raw sensation of each and every one of her dead nerves coming back to life. Misty could imagine nothing more excruciating than that, and yet she had lived it. Was she a fool to tempt the fates again? 

Perhaps she was a fool, but for Cordelia, she didn’t mind being quite foolish. Narrowing her eyes, she remembered how it felt to take control of another person—of Madison, of Cordelia, of the groundskeeper—and the distinct tingle and flush of power which rushed through her when she used her magic for that wonder. The same power rushed through her again. It built inside her solar plexus and throbbed and hummed and wiggled alive, coursing through her veins, upward toward her throat. She squinted at the box of things. She had willed people to bow to her will. Now, she willed it.  _ Light on fire. _

She had expected it to light with a trickle, like a campfire slowly spreading from log to log and eventually consuming the pit with a flame high enough to roast a marshmallow. She had expected a fire like a match, like a candle, something useful and calm like she had used safely in the swamp with no risk of losing herself again in the ashes and smoke. 

The box of paper and ink exploded into flames. Misty jumped back in surprise. Cordelia clung to her arm and stumbled with her. “Misty—” Blue eyes wide as the moon, the heat flared across Misty’s face, and as it scorched her skin, panic ensued in her chest. Her magic throbbed from within her, desperate to try to protect her from the imminent threat. The fire climbed higher. “Misty, it’s okay—” The flames leapt off of the box onto the curtains. “Calm down. Your fear makes it stronger.” The orange light caught the wall and then the rug. The rank odor poured off of it. Each breath hurt. 

Backing up until she collided with the wall, Misty gasped for breath. Her eyes burned and stung with the ash shedding from them.  _ I need to say something, I need to do something, I need to say something.  _ Cordelia’s chair caught fire. The rug was ablaze. Misty couldn’t move, frozen in terror, and her magic, her body’s only defense, flowed out of her into the fire and fueled it higher and louder and stronger. 

Cordelia repeated her name. “Misty. Misty. Misty!” The crackling of the flames consuming everything in their path drowned out the sound of her voice. 

The curtain rod cracked and buckled. As it smacked the floor, Misty yelped. She seized Cordelia by the hand and fled the room. Her heavy feet drummed the floor beneath her. She rounded the corner past the door frame and headed toward the stairs, almost slamming headlong into Madison. 

“Hey, I smell smoke—holy  _ shit, _ the house is on fire!” Misty grabbed her with her other arm and broke toward the stairs again. She didn’t like Madison, but even Madison didn’t deserve to die in a fire. But Madison planted her heels into the floor at the edge of the staircase. “Misty!” She hurled Misty’s arm off of her body and grabbed Cordelia by the waist to steady her from falling down the stairs. “Are you insane? She can’t see! She’ll fall!” 

Smoke billowed out of Cordelia’s room. “I—” Misty’s voice caught in her throat. The firelight danced in her eyes, and Cordelia and Madison were hooded figures instead of benevolent faces. The smoke shrouded their eyes. Madison’s concern—genuine concern, something Misty would have appreciated if she had had the space of mind to acknowledge it—was overwritten. Misty saw nothing but shades of evil approaching her, binding her wrists, dragging her away. 

Something else clattered to the floor in Cordelia’s room. The house echoed a hollow sound. Misty whimpered a short, thin sound. She ripped her hand away from Cordelia’s and drummed down the stairs without looking back. Cordelia and Madison yelled her name after her, but she stumbled her way down the stairs and fled the house in silence, vision going blurry from the smoke. 

“Misty!” Cordelia started to pursue her, but Madison dragged her back by the shirt. “I need to go after her.”

“You need to get the fire under control. We won’t have anywhere to sleep tonight!” Against Cordelia’s better judgment, Madison hauled her back toward the source of the smoke. Cordelia had no guide without Misty. She held onto Madison’s arm. The Sight showed her the flames, where they leapt at her face. “Help me!” 

“I—” The smoke filled Cordelia’s lungs. She coughed. “I can’t—” 

But Misty had done it. The heat flashed against her face. Cordelia held up a hand. The flames battled backward. The magically-fueled inferno grew and stretched before them.  _ Shrink.  _ The tall orange fire danced back at her like the Axeman had done. She persevered.  _ Shrink. Go back.  _ It flushed inward, and this time, it didn’t rebound at her. It continued to shrink downward. Cordelia’s magic pulsed and thrummed in a unique way, something she hadn’t experienced before; the command drew off of her and communicated with the fire like a sentient being. It felt so real, so raw, channeling parts of herself like that. She gulped the sooty flavor in her mouth and felt the heat bound away from her face and her hands. Madison worked in synchronization with her. They stepped like practiced dancers. 

Under their combined magic, the fire shrank and then vanished. Coughing into her elbow, Madison pushed her way across the wreckage. “Be careful!” Cordelia cautioned, rocking back onto her heels at the notion of walking across the burned floor. It creaked and groaned under Madison’s weight, but it didn’t give way. The black smoke curled out against the sky and lightened the room. Cordelia’s eyes streamed. She didn’t dare remove her sunglasses to wipe them—and she knew she had ash on her hands. Madison’s breathing was labored and wheezing. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

“Who the hell decided it was a good idea to start a fire in your bedroom?” 

_ She’s fine. _ Cordelia bit the tip of her tongue to keep from smiling in relief. “It was supposed to be contained to the boxes. It got out of hand.”

“Is Misty insane? For fuck’s sake, who does she think she is? Prometheus? You both could’ve died!” 

_ Well, at least she cares that we survive.  _ Cordelia almost doubted that Madison wanted them to live. Still, the accusation against Misty made Cordelia’s hackles rise. “It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t want to do it. I pushed her too hard.” She stepped nearer, walking carefully on the balls of her feet. There was little left of the cardboard boxes and their contents—Misty had successfully destroyed her chosen fodder, as well as everything else in that half of the room. The curtain rod was unusable. The drapes—her grandmother’s—had almost no remnants save for some frayed ends. 

Footsteps reached the top of the staircase. “Cordelia? Madison? What on earth is going on?” Myrtle stopped at the mouth of the room. “I saw Misty run into the greenhouse. She’s inconsolable—what  _ happened? _ ” Myrtle took Cordelia by the sleeve of her shirt and dragged her across the floor. “This room isn’t safe.” Her touch brought the image of the half-burnt shell of the room to the front of Cordelia’s mind. She gulped at the thought of stepping on the burned floor again. 

Madison huffed. “Apparently, Cordelia convinced Misty to set the house on fire.” She stormed past them. “I know what you’re doing. Training her. It’s not going to work. I’m going to be the Supreme whether you like it or not.” As her clothing brushed Cordelia, a vision hazed in front of her—a red solo cup, a salty flavor to her drink, and men, all kinds of men, sweating on top of her. Cordelia flinched at the Sight and swallowed a swollen lump in her throat. Madison’s heavy boots clipped the floor as she walked away. 

“You shouldn’t stay in this room anymore. It’s not safe.” Myrtle’s blase way ignored all of Madison’s huffy performance, though it smarted in the depths of Cordelia’s soul, guilt pooling inside of her. She had let Madison down. She deserved all of her hatred.  _ But Misty doesn’t.  _ “What happened?” she asked again. 

Cordelia cleared her throat, trying to push aside thoughts of Madison. “I asked Misty to burn the things you found in the attic. She was scared, and it got out of hand. Madison helped me bring it under control.”  _ She kept me from falling down the stairs.  _ That was twice, now, that Madison had helped her in spite of hating her. Cordelia’s hands fidgeted. She tried to distract herself. “My grandmother’s drapes aren’t salvageable, are they?” 

“No, dear, they aren’t, but they haven’t been in style since I was a child. It’s time to say farewell.” 

Farewell was being imposed upon her, she supposed. “I need to check on Misty.” 

“Of course.” Myrtle gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll move some of your things into Fiona’s room. Once Sunday is past and things are settled, we can call a contractor to have your floor and wall patched up.” 

_ Fiona’s room. _ Cordelia almost wanted to object. Her mother’s room had never been a safe place for her to stay as a child, and it brought bad memories now.  _ But I have Misty, now.  _ It didn’t seem as frightening, knowing that Misty would be at her side. Was it right to feel so self-assured in her friendship?  _ Why would it be wrong? _ “Thank you,” Cordelia said. She slipped her hand out of Myrtle’s and headed down the stairs to the greenhouse. 


	5. Just a Soul Crying

“Misty?” Cordelia entered the greenhouse with her cane sweeping the floor in front of her. Heavy, fast breaths gasped from across the room.  _ She’s hyperventilating.  _ Cordelia followed the sound hesitantly. She swept the floor with every step. She didn’t want to risk stepping on Misty or bumping into her and making things worse. “Misty?” Misty didn’t answer her, but the sound of her breath was familiar. Her cane bumped something. It moved in response. Pawing around clumsily, Cordelia bent over, feeling the edge of a table. Her hand landed on Misty’s ankle. Misty retreated back into herself. “Misty, it’s alright.” 

Bracing her hands against the glass top of the table, Cordelia slid back beside Misty. Misty curled up away from her. “Misty, I’m here.”  _ Why should that mean anything?  _ A broken, gasping sob broke from Misty’s chest and wrenched from her, an anguished cry. Cordelia extended a hand and pressed it to the small of her back. At the first touch, Misty flinched, but she didn’t shake Cordelia’s hand off of her body. The vision flashed before her, bright firelight. 

A man dragged Misty by the hair of her head through the dirt. She writhed and shrieked. Several men followed bearing tall torches, each separate flame dancing like stars in the navy sky. She kicked through the dirt as the man hoisted her up onto the stake. “No, no, no!” She jerked at her bounds, chafing the rope back and forth. It dug into her wrists and made them raw, but maybe if she rubbed it back and forth, she could whittle down the rope and break free. 

The soil clung to her feet. All of her weight dangled from her wrists. They threatened to break in the strain. A man approached her. She kicked out at him with a screech. “Don’t touch me!” The fire kept her from making out any faces. “Don’t touch me, don’t come any closer!” The flames glowed too bright and cast all of their facial features into shadow. 

A hand threatened around her mouth with a rag. He grabbed her lower jaw to wrench her mouth open. Misty snapped her teeth down on his fingers. He stumbled back, sputtering, “Crazy bitch,” and dropped the rag to the ground. Misty kicked off of the stake. Splinters dug into the soles of her bare feet and into her hands. “This will all be over soon.” Perhaps it was meant to comfort her, but she thrashed, trying anything to free herself. The reassurance guaranteed only one thing: She was about to die. 

Several people hurled gasoline at her. The acrid, chemical stench splashed into her mouth. She choked on it when she tried to inhale. Saliva poured from her mouth. Like a rabid animal, she howled, foaming and unable to wipe it away. “It’s you who’ll end in fire!” She slurred like a drunk as the gasoline made her tongue swell. She tried to spit. She tried not to swallow. Gas covered her from head to toe and streamed into her eyes from her sodden hair. “I swear it!” Behind them, a black-clad figure lingered, an elderly woman dressed in mourning lace and wearing a sad smile. Misty knew she was the only one who could see her. 

Misty twisted again in one final futile attempt to free herself. Her shoulder strained until it nearly dislocated. The gasoline fumes caused huge black blots to appear in her vision, but the mourning woman remained clear, somehow drawing nearer, not yet reaching her, not yet touching her. A torch fell to the stream of gasoline leading to the stake, and Misty ignited. 

The agony coursed all over her body. Every nerve ending sizzled. She screamed into the blackness of the night. The smoke curled off of her, away from this chimney, from this camping ground, and as she drank in a second breath to shriek again, she could smell—could  _ taste _ —the stench of her own flesh cooking like meat on a grill. This scream died faster for its pain in her chest. She could not cry. When she breathed again, the carbon monoxide in her blood overtook her, and she fell out of consciousness, into a blissful blackness. Death swallowed her.

Then it spat her up. Skin blackened with burns and melted off, the crispy shell of Misty’s body reanimated at the foot of the stake where they had committed their grand sacrifice. Bald and destroyed and naked, her magic pulsed around her, shoveling her under the earth. Mother Nature would heal the wounds mankind had placed upon her flesh. The agony of healing—Misty wished she wouldn’t have come back so quickly.

The earth birthed her like the family who would never know she lived. It had always raised her better than her blood relatives. Nude as the day she was born, she hobbled away from the stake and into the trees—alone. It was safer this way, she knew. 

A shuddering breath snatched Cordelia from the inside of Misty’s brain. Misty doubled over in the middle, clinging to her knees. Cordelia grabbed one of her shoulders. Misty screamed a broken sound and batted her away. Nothing broke through. Desperate, Cordelia reached for her again—she could do nothing to help Misty if she couldn’t touch her. Cordelia’s hands were her eyes. This time, Misty couldn’t shake her off, but another blood-curdling shriek ripped from her. “It  _ burns! _ ” She was trapped in the memory. Her hands, fingernails digging into her skin, ripped all over her arms. Blood burbled from the shallow scratches. “It  _ hurts _ , make it  _ stop! _ ” She tore at her loose clothing and yanked at her hair. 

“Misty—” Cordelia grabbed her hands and pulled them away. “Misty, you’re hurting yourself. Stop it.” She didn’t raise her voice, afraid of frightening Misty more, but Misty quivered all over. Her body quaked, a tree bowing under a hurricane’s sharp winds. Each gasping breath had a cry attached to its end. “Listen to me. Can you hear me?” Misty didn’t respond.  _ She’s not aware. She can’t hear me.  _ Cordelia tugged her nearer, trying to hold her, to rock her, to do anything to bring her some comfort. 

Misty wrenched away with a cry. “No, no, no!” 

_ This isn’t helping.  _ Cordelia eased away from her, giving her some space.  _ I need to help her. _ She held out her hands. She knew something that could help Misty—but she feared she couldn’t make it anymore.  _ I have to try. _ A mortar and pestle flew across the room at her and landed in the palms of her hands. She knew the recipe. She didn’t need to read it. Plants floated around the room, arranging themselves in front of her in order. She felt them one by one and plucked the leaves and flowers she needed. “ _ Scriptorem. Magia enim non opus est verbis… _ ” The leaves warmed in her hand and began to mold together. She dropped them into the bowl. Holding her hand under it, she conjured a tiny flame, keeping it cupped in her palm so Misty couldn’t see. “ _ Volo facierum eorum _ .” The combination of plants melted into a potion, warm and smelling of the lavender she had put inside of it. 

“Misty?” Cordelia took her by the shoulder again, but Misty shook her head before Cordelia had uttered a word. “I need you to drink this. It will calm you down, alright?” Misty refused. Cordelia held up the potion to her, but Misty’s hands shook too hard—she was going to spill it—and she refused to wrap her fingers around it. “Misty, listen to me. It’s alright. You’re safe.” Her words had no effect on Misty. 

One soft hand pressed to Misty’s back again, rubbing in circles. Sweat drenched her thin clothing.  _ I have to help her.  _ Misty choked on her own saliva and coughed between her desperate pants for oxygen. Cordelia sidled up beside her and sank onto the floor. “Misty. Let me help you.”  _ I don’t think I can _ . Her magic expanded from her body, seeking the target. Misty had done it so easily—surely she could perform the same spell now, in a moment of crisis. 

Every wall in Misty’s mind shot upward, trying to block Cordelia out. “It’s just me,” she whispered. She felt her way around the dark corners of Misty’s mind, praying the walls weren’t made of shattered glass or razor blades.  _ Let me help you, _ she pressed, and then Misty eased, and Cordelia pressed her way inside. She saw through Misty’s teary eyes.  _ Let’s drink this. It’ll calm you.  _ Misty’s hand, still unsteady but more stable than before, picked up the mortar where Cordelia had mixed the ingredients and brought it to her lips. Misty didn’t fight. She drank until the soupy mixture was gone. 

Cordelia took the mortar from her and put the pestle back inside of it. She slipped away from Misty’s mind. The shaking and the gasping and the quivering rose inside of her again. Cordelia took her by the wrist and held it out of the way to keep her from scratching herself some more. “It’s okay, Misty.” The hand wrapped hers in a vice grip. Cordelia bit back a grimace. “Can you hear me?” 

The gasping and the shaking swaddled Misty once again. She choked on her saliva. “I—” This was the first time Misty had tried to answer her. “Uh-huh—” She paused long enough to swallow. It made her gag. Her other hand went to her arm, but Cordelia pried her fingers off of herself as the fingers curled to dig their nails into her skin. “Can—”

She couldn’t form a whole sentence, but it was progress. “You’re here, with me. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.” She kept both of Misty’s hands in her grip to keep them from scratching one another. Somewhere, she had dropped her cane. She didn’t care. “We’re in the greenhouse.” She felt that, perhaps, spelling everything out would help ground Misty in the moment. “What do you feel?”

It was a broad question. Misty gasped. “Itches—burns.” Cordelia held her hands down to keep her from scratching. “Chest hurts.” She stammered and buffered her way over words as her tongue refused to fold around them. “Face—fingers—numb—”

“You’re breathing too fast. It’s making your chest hurt and making you dizzy.” Gently, Cordelia released one of Misty’s hands and placed her palm on her cheek. Misty flinched, but then she leaned into the touch. “Can you breathe with me?” Cordelia’s heart was beating too fast. Misty nodded into her touch. She took Misty by the wrist and placed the palm of her hand on her own chest. “Right here. Alright. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” She Saw many things dancing before her, all things borne from touching Misty, but she ignored the visions and focused on the reality sitting before her, however much the colors of the visions tempted her out of her blackness. She inhaled, breathing slowly so her chest expanded into Misty’s hand. 

Misty broke into a string of coughs. “That’s okay. We can try again. In…” This time, the breath lasted longer. It fanned out too quickly. “Good, better. Again.”

The calming draught entered Misty’s bloodstream and began to slow her racing heart and her shaking hands. Her gasping coughs melted into tears. “I’m s-sorry,” she stammered. Her face crumpled up into Cordelia’s hand. Cordelia framed Misty’s cheeks between her palms. “I’m so sorry—” 

“Sh, Misty, you didn’t do anything wrong.” A quiet sob left Misty’s lips. Cordelia pulled her close. “Come here. It’s okay. You’re safe…” Misty hugged her in return. “It’s okay.” Misty’s face buried in the crook of her neck. Her eyelashes were soft and her face wet. “Talk to me,” she prompted quietly. “What is it?” 

She Saw it, of course, but she didn’t want to say so. Every bone in her body pitied Misty, the way her skin burned at the mere sight of a flame, the way her mind cycled in preparation for another death. “I burned up your room…” 

“Misty, no, that was my fault. I pushed you too hard. I know that. I should have respected your boundaries.”

“Is everyone alright?” 

“Yes—yes, of course. No one was hurt.”  _ Except my grandmother’s drapes. _ Cordelia tried not to linger on the ugly drapes that she had cherished so much. She couldn’t see them anymore, anyway. “We’ll have someone put the floor back in, and it’ll be fine again. No harm done.” 

Misty’s head dropped onto Cordelia’s shoulder. “I burned up your pictures, like you asked… and your curtains, and your floor, and your wall, and your furniture.” Cordelia chuckled quietly. Misty took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Please don’t ask me to do that again—I don’t think I can, I don’t think…” She trailed off. 

“I understand. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

The potion worked through Misty and tired her. “You put the fire out?” 

“Yes, Madison helped me.” 

Bleary eyelashes blinked, brushing Cordelia’s skin. “You did magic…” Cordelia rubbed the small of her back, confused by the statement. “You did  _ a lot _ of magic, Miss Cordelia.” 

Cordelia frowned. “I didn’t do anything you haven’t done, Misty.” She stroked Misty’s curly hair. Misty made a noncommittal sound—she was too tired to manage anything more provocative—and the frown abated. Misty was sleepy and cute.  _ Cute?  _ Cordelia liked it. “Let’s go back inside… I bet you’re pretty tired.” Misty nodded against her shoulder. “Myrtle’s moving our things to another room. You can take a nap. No more magic today.” A long grunt left Misty’s throat. “I’m sorry.” 

She placed one hesitant hand on Misty’s face and felt a smile, a dimple. “I’d do anything for you, Miss Cordelia.” 

Cordelia swore her heart gained wings and fluttered right out of her chest. 

Aiding an exhausted Misty up the stairs, Cordelia led the way to Fiona’s room. The bed was made just as Fiona had left it. Myrtle had left Misty’s trunk on the floor—Cordelia tripped over it on her path to the bed, and Misty apologized and redirected her just a little too late. “Isn’t this Fiona’s room?” Misty asked in a dim tone of voice. 

Folding the covers back for her to slide into the bed, Cordelia nodded. “Yeah. It is. We’ll just stay here for a few nights.”  _ We’ll.  _ She remembered that Misty’s sleeping with her was supposed to be a temporary arrangement. But she liked it. She liked sharing a room with someone. All of the other witches had roommates. Until recently, she had had Hank, and without him, it was lonely—and god, how she hated herself for missing him. Misty felt right in the bed beside her. It felt safer. She slept easier with the fellow body beside her. 

And the fact that the body was Misty’s? Well, she couldn’t speak to that. 

Misty held onto Cordelia’s hand, tugging her gently as she folded under the blankets. Cordelia sat on the mattress beside her, careful not to crowd her too close. “Are you sure you’re comfortable staying here?” Misty asked. “Cause… everything.” She muffled a yawn with the palm of her hand. “I don’t mind moving stuff for you, if you’d rather move to a different room, if you’d feel safer that way.”

Cordelia shook her head. “This is fine. I can’t see it, anyway,” she remarked ruefully.  _ I’ll have to make sure to keep the door locked. _ The thought of wandering out of the room by mistake and falling down the stairs or worse frightened her.  _ It still smells like Fiona.  _ She doubted anyone had gone through to sort her things. Cordelia couldn’t do it alone. But Misty was here. She felt quite selfish as she suggested, somewhat meekly, “Maybe I’ll go through some of her things while I’m here.”

“I’ll help.” Misty volunteered without Cordelia even requesting her assistance.

A warmth covered Cordelia’s face. “After you take a nap,” she said when Misty yawned again. Misty leaned back into the pillows and relaxed with a sigh. She plucked up Cordelia’s hand by the wrist and placed it on her cheek. Her lips, her dimples, curled beneath Cordelia’s palm. 

At the touch, a vision flashed before Cordelia. Misty wrapped around her, a python constricting around her body. Wet skin pressed against hers—skin, bare skin, and she vaguely thought,  _ We’re naked. _ Thunder crackled overhead. Misty kissed her. Cold rain poured from the sky. It slicked her hair against her skin. “Misty,” she gasped into her mouth. 

Misty detached from her mouth. “Cordelia,” she breathed into her open mouth. Misty pushed her, and Cordelia’s feet stumbled through the ankle-deep mud until she landed with her back against the bark of a tree. In a deep, husky voice, Misty sang right to Cordelia’s earlobe. “Thunder only happens when it’s raining…” A long-fingered, bare hand pressed to Cordelia’s abdomen and snaked lower. “Players only love you when they’re playing.” It was off-key and breathless, and with each word, Cordelia lifted her head, trying to chase Misty’s lips and catch her in another kiss, but Misty eluded her. “Women, they will come, and they will go.” Cordelia’s arms wrapped around Misty from behind. The thunder isolated them, just them—it silenced the rest of the world, so Cordelia could think of nothing, sense nothing, other than the pressure of Misty’s body against hers and the sound of her breath and her voice under the dull roar. The hand cupped her mound and spread out her lower lips. “When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know.” 

A single, long finger pushed into Cordelia’s body. She shuddered. She clung to Misty’s shoulders. “I hope you never go, sugarcube,” Misty whispered. Her thumb extended a little, prepared to touch Cordelia’s clitoris. 

“Miss Cordelia?” Misty’s voice snapped her out of the vision. Cordelia snatched back like she’d been burned.  _ Holy shit.  _ “That’s the second time today…” Her tongue darted out across her lips as she tried to think of an explanation on the spot—anything other than what she had just Seen.  _ I didn’t See that. It’s just intrusive thoughts.  _ She never had visions like that. “What is it?” 

Awkwardly clearing her throat, Cordelia shook her head. “Nothing, nothing, it’s nothing.”

Her reticence did nothing to assuage Misty’s concern. “Am I gonna die?” 

“No! No, no, Misty, of course not. If I Saw that, I’d tell you.” Her throat felt very thick and dry now. She tried to keep swallowing. “I didn’t See anything. It was just a thought.”  _ And I should not be thinking about her like that.  _ Twice in one day? What was wrong with her? She was still hurting from Hank—that was still so fresh. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure.” Rolling the covers up, Cordelia tucked Misty into bed. “Take a nap, okay?” She burned between the legs. She wondered if she was flushed, if Misty could see that. “I know you’re tired.” 

She didn’t need eyes to hear the furrowed brow of concern in Misty’s voice. Quieter than before, she asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Cordelia reached out and patted her hand. No visions. “I’m fine. Promise.”

There was a slight tremble to Misty’s fingers. “Would you stay until I fall asleep?” she asked in a tiny voice. 

_ She’s still afraid.  _ Cordelia nodded. “Yeah, I’ll stay. Whatever you need, alright?” Misty was her friend. Misty deserved that much. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Cordelia rested on top of the covers while Misty bundled underneath them. “Close your eyes.” She allowed Misty to take her hand and snuggle up against it. 

Soft eyelashes brushed the palm of Cordelia’s hand. “Miss Cordelia?” 

_ She doesn’t need to call me that anymore.  _ Cordelia didn’t know how to tell her that. “Yes?” Misty smelled like sweat from her panic attack. 

“Thank you for staying… I really appreciate it.” Cordelia petted her damp hair. Misty nuzzled into the sweet touch. “And letting me stay with you. I feel a lot safer with you here.” 

Cordelia chuckled, a dark and wry sound. “I make you feel safe?” Incredulity curdled inside of her, aging milk. What good could she offer to anyone?

“Mhm.” Misty opened her mouth and yawned. “I sleep easier… Fewer nightmares, you know.” She shivered. Her sweat was chilling her body. Cordelia wanted to offer her a change of clothes, but she was afraid of getting up and embarrassing herself in the unfamiliar room where she might walk into things. And lying here so near to Misty was enjoyable. She had no desire to deny herself a moment of it, even when Misty smelled a little bad. “Do you—Do you know what happened to me? Why I got like that?” 

The question took Cordelia aback. “Well…” She didn’t know exactly how to explain—she didn’t know much herself. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she reassured.  “Sometimes… That’s just something that happens to people who—who experienced something bad. Like you did.” She shrugged, hoping to dissuade Misty’s curiosity. She didn’t know enough about mental health to help her. College general psychology was fifteen years ago, and there were things she hadn’t understood then, either. 

“Oh…” Misty didn’t sound satisfied, but the potion was taking its toll on her. Cordelia was grateful she didn’t ask more pressing questions. One of her arms caught around Cordelia’s waist and pulled herself close. “I hope it doesn’t happen again,” she whispered in a bare voice. “It was really scary.” Cordelia caressed her cheek with the back of her hand. “I’m glad you were with me.” 

“I’m glad I was there, too.”  _ I shouldn’t have pushed her so hard.  _ Misty would do anything for her—she had made that much clear. But that frightened Cordelia. Misty didn’t respect her own boundaries, at least not as much as she respected Cordelia.  _ That’s not right. _ “Misty?” she prompted, wondering if Misty had already drifted off to sleep. 

She hadn’t. The voice perked her up. She lifted her head and nuzzled into Cordelia’s hand. “Mhm?” 

“If you feel uncomfortable with something I ask you to do… you should tell me.” Misty’s face and hair were wet with sweat. “I never want to hurt you. You should feel safe, first, no matter where you are with your magic. You’re a powerful witch, but you should never jeopardize your own safety to perform a spell.” 

Misty’s brow furrowed. “But you want me to be the Supreme,” she objected. “I need to practice this magic to be the Supreme.” 

_ I did this all wrong. _ “If you’re the Supreme, you’ll be the Supreme. I just want to help you harness your power—I don’t want to push you into anything that makes you uncomfortable.” 

Silence followed. Misty was thinking hard. Cordelia didn’t dare interrupt her thoughts. “I wanted to do it,” she finally said, quieter than before. Her slender body tensed against Cordelia’s on the sheets, like she braced herself for a strike.  _ Did someone hit her before? _ “He hurt you. You deserve a future where he doesn’t live in your attic or your closet. Destroying it felt good. I’d do it again.” Cordelia’s hand smoothed down Misty’s back, trying to convince the lean muscles there to relax. She would never harm Misty. “I’m glad I got to do it.” 

“I’m replacing him with something better.” These thoughtless words tumbled from her lips, and after she considered for a moment, she wondered about their ramifications. What was better than her former life? She was blind, barren, now orphaned, and widowed by the husband who had never loved her. Her former life had everything—a loving husband (at least, his illusion), full color vision, a living if detached mother, and  _ hope _ . She carried the silly, stupid hope of a family and a future with her family, with Hank, with children. 

All of that hope was gone. The odds were stacked against her. All of her dreams were erased, swept away in the torrential flooding of chaos that had happened since Fiona returned to the coven. Yet, somehow, lying here with Misty, nothing felt quite as heavy as before. Misty’s breath wafted across her face. It was warm. Cordelia wanted to curl up inside it. The satisfaction was unprecedented for her. Here, beside Misty, she was happier than she ever remembered being with Hank. 

“I’m glad I’m here to see it,” Misty whispered. Sleep added a slur to her voice. She was almost gone to another realm. She fumbled with Cordelia’s wrist and brought her hand back up to her face. Misty snuggled into her touch without hesitation.  _ She isn’t afraid to touch me. _ Everyone else hesitated now to touch her, to hug her, to brush up against her. Even Myrtle. But Misty didn’t. Quiet breaths slowed and steadied into sleep. Each one wafted steam across Cordelia’s palm. 

The quiet of the room swallowed her. The house smelled vaguely like smoke. The windows were open, but she could still detect it, faint and ashy.  _ She only asked me to stay until she fell asleep.  _ But Misty had fallen asleep clinging to her. Cordelia didn’t want to disturb her by pulling away. And she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Misty when nightmares could wrap her up in their clutches. Misty had endured so much. She deserved nothing but peace now. If Cordelia could give her just a sliver of peace, she wanted to do it. 

Footsteps passed outside the room.  _ Myrtle.  _ Knuckles rapped on the door. “Come in.” She kept her voice low, reluctant to disturb Misty. 

Myrtle stepped inside and left the door open behind her. “How is she?” 

Absent in her thought, Cordelia brushed her hand against Misty’s hair. The sweat on her body was cooling, and she shivered. Cordelia tugged up the blankets and tucked them around her body to try to warm her. “She’ll be fine. I frightened her.” 

“You calmed her.” 

“I made her a potion,” Cordelia confessed. “I was afraid I couldn’t bring her down, otherwise. But now she’s tired.”

The legs of a chair scraped on the wooden floor as Myrtle sat beside the bed. “That was smart of you, my dear. She was beside herself when I saw her.” The tip of her shoe drummed on the floor as she spoke. Myrtle had always fidgeted. The sound soothed Cordelia. It made things safer, more regular, less foreign. “Those were some powerful flames, to destroy your room the way they did. Your furniture was devoured.” The curls of Misty’s soft hair sprang up under Cordelia’s fingertips. “She’s quite a witch.”

_ Quite a witch. _ Cordelia didn’t know what those words meant, exactly. “Do you think it’s her?” Misty had a heart wider than the sky and a conscience governed by empathy, and with her strength, the world bowed down at her feet. She wore kindness on the same sleeve where she hid her power. Misty was the Supreme the coven needed.  _ But that doesn’t mean anything.  _ Cruel fate had placed Fiona at the head of the coven. It could always do the same again. 

“I am not a betting woman. But if I were, my money would be on her.” Myrtle paused. Cordelia kept teasing Misty’s hair. Misty was having a pleasant dream of butterflies in the grass and crickets and grasshoppers landing on her body and the sun beating down on her skin and warming her. “Her powers are extraordinary. It’s a shame our Supreme was too inept to help her discover herself more.” 

“I’m doing my best, but I’m no Supreme.” 

“You’re doing as well as anyone else could have done. Better—since no one else tried.” Cordelia’s jaw clicked as she closed her teeth together. “That girl adores you. You’re guiding her to be a better witch—a better person. She thinks the world of you. I can see it on her face.” 

Cordelia didn’t know what to say to this information, how to react. “She’s a good friend.”  _ I’m not sure I deserve her.  _ Misty would do anything for her at her request. Cordelia appreciated that. But did she deserve it? “I’m glad she stayed.” 

“She stayed because you asked it of her, didn’t she?” 

“Yes. She did.” It was a big decision. Misty had made it just for her. Cordelia wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.  _ Of course it’s a good thing. The coven needs her.  _ In her heart, Cordelia held a certainty about Misty’s status as the next Supreme. Misty belonged with the coven. She needed to stay so she could appropriately rise to become its next leader.

“You deserve some loyalty, dear, after what you’ve endured. And sweet Misty has known so much chaos. She has earned some stability here, with us. With you. Some loyal friendships will do her some good. It’s time for her to learn that not everyone will hurt her, and that there are places where she can safely be herself without persecution.” 

Myrtle’s reassuring words brought a dumb grin to Cordelia’s face. She could benefit Misty. The thought comforted her, as much as it saddened her that Misty had not known anything so pure before in her life. Misty’s breath warmed the palm of her hand. She stopped shivering in her sleep. 

Heavy footfalls landed outside the bedroom. “Madison?” Cordelia said. 

She stopped in the door frame where Myrtle had left it open. “Wow—sorry, didn’t realize I was interrupting your orgy. Count me out. It’s not my kink.” Cordelia measured her breath patiently from between her nostrils. She didn’t have a quick reply—she deserved whatever Madison brought against her now. To her credit, Myrtle remained quiet in her chair. Madison’s tone didn’t lose its attitude. “Is she alright, or did Smokey Bear devour her soul?”

Madison’s concern worried Cordelia. She bit her lower lip, uncertain how to answer, unwilling to betray too much—especially when she didn’t know what Misty intended Madison to know. “She’s not hurt. She’s going to be fine. She just got a little spooked by the flames.” 

Madison fell silent. The quiet churned with more unsaid words than Cordelia could count, and she only imagined their content. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Right. Good.” She stomped away from the mouth of the room.

Myrtle stood and scooted the chair back to where it had been before she used it. “I’m going to start on dinner, Delia, dear.” 

“Alright.”

“Keep her warm.” 

As Myrtle left, too, so they were alone, Cordelia sniffed Misty’s hair.  _ Oh, I will.  _ She rested her head on the pillow with a quiet sigh and waited for Misty to awaken. She wouldn’t leave. Not now.  _ Not ever.  _


	6. Destiny Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Life has become crazy and unpredictable for me. Thank you for your patience!

Cordelia tapped her way into the room where she had set up the marbles and the book on Divination. “Misty?” 

In response, Misty rattled the marbles. “These are so pretty. Are we playing marbles? My grandma taught me.” Cordelia almost wanted to laugh at her. She couldn’t suppress her smile. The marbles distinctly clicked on the table as Misty put them down one by one. “I love all of the colors. They’re like Easter eggs, but more fun.” 

In spite of herself, Cordelia snorted. “We’re not playing marbles.” She placed a hand on the table and took the jar away from Misty. “We’re practicing Divination.” Feeling around, she swept a bunch of the marbles back into the jar. Misty made a guttural sound in the back of her throat. “What?”

“I just spent the last half an hour sorting those by color.” She hopped up from her seat at the table. Her footfalls were so quiet, Cordelia almost couldn’t track her as she moved around the room. “We should close the windows. It’s gonna storm.” 

Sweeping the floor with her cane, Cordelia followed her to the window. The sunlight washed through it and bathed her face in warmth, and the mellow summer breeze wafted through the room. “Is it cloudy?” she asked. She smelled the breeze, but no humidity clung to it—it carried no sweet scent or taste. 

“Nah. It’s gonna come out of nowhere.” 

“How do you know?” 

“The trees sway differently when the weather’s coming.” 

Cordelia didn’t understand, but she didn’t question, either. Misty seemed to know things about nature in an intimate way, the way a person only ever got to know a partner or a twin. Cordelia respected that. She took the window by its base and closed it. “Alright.” Misty followed her in front of the table, facing the window. “Do you know anything about Divination?”

Misty shrugged. “That kooky lady from  _ Harry Potter _ did it with tea leaves and stuff. But she was bogus. Except for the—You know what, let’s just not talk about that.” She cleared her throat and straightened up.

Resisting the urge to laugh, Cordelia nodded in agreement. “Right. But this isn’t bogus. Some people are able to Divine information from other, unrelated means. Like a puzzle.” She rattled the jar of marbles. It made a satisfying sound. “The marbles are the most common method, but you can use whatever works for you. However you can get the information you need to complete the task—it’s the information that matters, not the method.” 

Nodding in agreement, Misty’s eyes followed the jar in Cordelia’s hand. She liked the way the marbles sounded, rattling around in there like a baby toy. “So what kind of information am I supposed to get?” She had spilled the marbles earlier. They hadn’t whispered any secrets to her, so she busied herself sorting them by color, which occupied her until Cordelia arrived.  _ I don’t think I can do this one. _ Maybe she was off the hook. If she couldn’t do this, then she wasn’t  the Supreme.  _ Maybe I could pretend. _

As she thought, Cordelia reached to touch her arm, and Misty knew that was a fruitless adventure. She had to be honest. Lying had never been her strong suit anyway. She offered her elbow to Cordelia. “There are artifacts belonging to former Supremes hidden around the house. Your job is to find them—all five of them.”

This wasn’t dangerous. But it still felt insurmountable. Five artifacts? From a bunch of marbles? Misty squinted skeptically at the jar of tiny colored balls. It seemed impossible. She had never heard secrets from inanimate objects before. Nature, of course, nature was different. The earthworms had knowledge unfathomable to the human mind, but Misty had learned it by sinking into the earth alongside them. Some parts of her former body lingered in the soil beneath dandelions. She took something from Mother Earth, the womb which had borne her into her second life, that she could get from nothing else. “I don’t think this is something I can do,” she admitted to Cordelia. “I just spilled those things earlier and didn’t do anything but color code them. Pretty sure that’s not the task.” 

Beyond the table, clouds clustered heavily, blotting out the sun. The trees kept on dancing their rain dance, welcoming the inclement weather. “Just try it?” Cordelia asked, and her tone was bargaining, and Misty knew she could deny her nothing. Cordelia was too important to her, for whatever dumb, inexplicable reason. If Cordelia asked it of her, she had to try it. “You may be surprised by yourself when you know what to expect—what to look for.”

“But I don’t know what to look for. Are there shapes? Patterns? Rules?” Misty didn’t usually like rules. She preferred to follow her soul. Her instincts and her spirit guided her through life and seldom let her down. Rules were limiting. But some guidelines for this wholly unfamiliar territory wouldn’t have done her any harm. 

“You’ll know.” Cordelia used a patient tone with her. Misty sucked on her lower lip with uncertainty. Cordelia sounded so sure. She trusted Cordelia. So she had to attempt the task. As she thought it, Cordelia spilled the marbles across the table in front of her. They scattered in irregular shapes and patterns. Misty squinted at them, wondering if she could take something from this like a Rorschach test. The sunlight glinted in some of the colors, in spite of its faintness through the clouds. Thunder rumbled distantly outside the house. The marbles rocked back and forth with the vibrations. Narrowing her eyes, Misty squinted at the pretty colors. In her mind, they gathered up before her as she sank into the mud up to her ankles, all of the shapes sprawled out on the soil and the grass. They rearranged, an arrow pointing downward. 

Misty sank into the ground of the swamp and landed on the basement floor in front of the washing machine. It thrummed with electricity pounding through it. In the vision, she stepped closer to it, opened the lid. Someone’s dress was at the top. She pulled it out and shook the moisture off of it, and then reaching into the pocket, she pulled free an ancient rosary with opal beads. As she rolled it between her fingers, it flashed sights at her—a woman, standing at the mouth of the stairs, carefully masking the academy as a real school. 

The marbles and the sky’s light glinting on them spat her out. Misty gasped. Her lungs ached, like Divining had submerged her in water. She had forgotten to breathe. 

“Well?” Cordelia asked, hesitant but hopeful. 

“The rosary belonging to Supreme Eulalie de Bellisle is in the washing machine.”

Cordelia paused. “What?” 

“It’s in somebody’s dress pocket.”

In spite of her assuredness, Cordelia gaped at her.  _ I guess it wasn’t supposed to be in the washing machine? _ Misty guessed this seemed obvious enough, now that she thought about it. A relic didn’t belong in somebody’s pockets. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. Do you want me to go get it out?”

“What did it look like?”

Misty’s brow quirked with confusion. “I dunno. It looked like a rosary. Beads were white. Cold stones. Opal or pearl, I guess.” She wasn’t sure. She didn’t know a lot about precious stones and would admit it. “The cross was big. Hewn out of copper or bronze. A ruby in the center. Just your average rich lady’s rosary.” Her own reflection stared back at her from Cordelia’s sunglasses. Misty’s eyes darted back out to the window. The bright sky faded behind overcast gray clouds, gradually piling heavier and heavier. The thunder rumbled. A slight drizzle fell on and off, but the wind didn’t relent from the trees. “I don’t think the washing machine will hurt it, but I can go get it if you want to put it in a safe place.” 

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, the gape on Cordelia’s mouth didn’t abate. “The relic belonging to Supreme Eulalie de Bellisle has been missing for over a century.”

Misty arched an eyebrow. _ That sounds bogus. _ She trusted Cordelia’s word, of course… But how could she have found something that had been missing for years? “Well… somebody found it, because it’s in their dress pocket. In the washing machine. Getting washed.” Someone had found it before she had. It couldn't have been that unprecedented for her to find something previously missing through Divination, anyway, right? 

Faintly clearing her throat, Cordelia nodded. “I guess—I guess we should go find it.”  _ It'd be faster for just me, _ Misty thought, but Cordelia took her arm and it made Misty so happy that she couldn't dream of feeling inconvenienced. Every time Cordelia touched her, it warmed her soul, the pit of her stomach, the tips of her toes, the auricles of her ears, and everything in between. Cordelia made her feel important, needed, and Misty loved that feeling—but she loved everything about Cordelia. 

A slight blush touched Cordelia's face. Misty wondered if she had heard any of that. She steadied Cordelia on the steps headed to the basement with the washing machine. “Where do you think somebody would have found it? To put it in their pocket?” she asked to change the subject. 

“I don't know.” 

At the base of the stairs, Misty headed to the washing machine and popped it open, finding the black dress. “Here.” She reached into the first pocket. Empty. Her heart skipped a beat.  _ What if I'm wrong?  _ What if she had gotten Cordelia's hopes up for nothing? The vision had seemed so real. She fumbled into the other pocket, and then the smooth stone beads rubbed against her fingers. Misty pulled them free. “Here. Got it for you. Crucifix and everything.” Cordelia held out her hand, and Misty poured the beads into her palm, examining how it glinted in the dim basement light as it fell against her warm-toned skin. 

A quiet gasp fluttered from Cordelia's mouth. She stiffened.  _ She's Seeing, _ Misty thought, anxiously staring at her own dim reflection in Cordelia's sunglasses. She didn't like looking at herself. She was too gaunt, malnourished from living detached from society. She looked too wild and too feral. But when looking at Cordelia, all that seemed to fall away. She waited with her lip between her teeth for Cordelia to come back to her. The vision let her travel, but like a ship on the shore, she returned to her lighthouse. 

Her next breath whistled from between her teeth. “You okay?” Misty asked. She didn't care about the rosary—she had found it. It was safe in Cordelia's hand. Its story was secondary to Cordelia's well being. 

“Yeah…” Her word shook a little as she exhaled it. “Yeah. I'm fine.” She pushed the rosary into her pocket. Her palm opened for Misty's again. Misty grinned and took it. “Fiona had it. Myrtle must be washing some of her clothes to donate.” 

This surprised Misty, though she recognized it shouldn't have.  _ There are probably tons of missing things in Fiona's shit, if we look through it all.  _ The more she learned about Fiona, the less she liked the former Supreme. The coven deserved better. Stevie deserved better. Myrtle deserved better. Cordelia deserved better. “I'm kind of surprised.”  _ I hope the next one does better. If it's me, or if it's somebody else _ . Misty swallowed hard. She had Divined the location of the rosary—that made five of the seven wonders she could perform.  _ If it's me, I've gotta do better.  _ She didn't want to lead anyone. She wanted everyone here to be safe, but she could help protect the coven without leading it. Telekinesis, Concilium, Pyrokinesis (she shuddered at the thought), Vitalum Vitalis (she didn't need a test to bring things back to life), and now Divination… That just left two.  _ One of them was teleporting.  _ She couldn't remember the last one. 

“I am, too,” Cordelia admitted. “But we shouldn't be.” Cordelia sounded bitter. It was muted, because everything about her was soft, but Misty tasted it under her tongue. 

She gave Cordelia's hand a gentle squeeze. “What was she doing with it?” 

Cordelia turned her face away. “She was going to charm it and sell it to buy out an oncologist's experimental treatment. She was dirtying hands under the table to try to stay alive.” 

The words discolored Misty’s happiness. “Well, she didn’t sell it.” It felt hollow as she said it. “We still have it. And I’ve got more things to find for you. C’mon.” She gave Cordelia a tug and headed toward the stairs. Cordelia followed her. She stumbled a bit, but she didn’t lose her footing, and when Misty glanced back at her to apologize, Cordelia’s dull look had faded back into a smile. Cordelia smiled all the time when she was with Misty. Misty adored it. 

The wooden stairs rocked under her feet. Misty wanted to run up them. She restrained herself. Cordelia was unsteady enough going one speed. Misty would never forgive herself if she tripped Cordelia on the stairs. “What else am I looking for?” Misty asked her as the balls of her feet struck the landing above the basement. 

“You tell me.” Cordelia’s eyebrow arched in a teasing challenge. But it didn’t seem as insurmountable as before. How could it? She had done it once. Now, she felt up to the task. The upturned corners of Cordelia’s lips added a glimmer of light to her soul.  _ I’d destroy a thousand armies for the pleasure of her smile.  _ As she thought it, Cordelia chuckled under her breath. The laughter caused a slight pink tinge to cross Misty’s face. 

She led the way back into the room where they had left the marbles on the table. Cordelia released her as she followed her into the room. Her feet made faint falls on the floor. Misty tried to listen to her footfalls and memorize their sound—since Cordelia knew hers, it seemed only right. Cordelia swept the hardwood floor with her cane. The dull rumble of thunder outside vibrated on the hollow floors. The marbles rattled a little. “Do we spill them again?” She started to sweep them back into the jar. They made a pleasant clinking noise as they all bumped against each other in the jar. 

A soft hand placated her, touching her on the wrist and bringing the jar back down to the table. “Do you need them?” Misty’s eyebrows quirked. This was the task, wasn’t it? Cordelia had spilled the marbles, and then she looked at them, and the images brought her a vision, and she interpreted it and found the item she sought. “Did you use the marbles before?” Cordelia asked, clarifying her statement. 

Misty still didn’t understand. “Of course I did. Just like you told me to do. I looked at them and figured it out. Isn’t that what I was supposed to do?” She bit her lower lip in confusion as she looked back at the jar of marbles. 

“Did you look at the marbles, or did you look at the sky?” 

“I…”  _ The marbles, _ Misty began to say, but then she drifted off. The light, faint sunlight from the collecting storm clouds, filtered through the windows behind the table. The marbles refracted the sunlight into colors and shapes and patterns, drawing Mother Nature’s very aura from inside her and causing it to smash like stained glass before Misty. “I’m not sure.” 

Cordelia strode around the table without bumping into it. Her confidence mingled with urgency. She drew the blinds down and pulled the curtains closed. Without the gray light of the thunderstorm outside, the room was cast into darkness. She whirled back to face Misty. With no light, Misty squinted to make out her silhouette. She couldn’t see her reflection in Cordelia’s sunglasses anymore. “Try it now. No trees. No sunlight. No sky.” 

“Can I turn on a light? It’s really dark in here.” 

A moment passed, shocked into silence, and Cordelia nodded. “Yes—Yes, of course, I’m sorry.” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “I forgot.” 

Misty flicked on the light switch on the wall so the overhead light came on. “It’s alright.” It was more than alright. Wasn’t it good that Cordelia had forgotten, if just for a moment, that she was different? That other people needed light to see? If Cordelia thought of herself as normal, wasn’t that good?  _ She made herself this way for me. The least I can do is help her adjust.  _ For a minute, however brief, Misty said a prayer.  _ I hope I am the Supreme. I’ll make sure I’ll find a way to fix her eyes, and she’ll never have to hurt herself for me or anyone else ever again. _ Misty didn’t know enough magic to know if such a spell was possible. Myrtle had fixed Cordelia’s eyes once, but she hadn’t done it through legal means. Cordelia would never let her hurt anyone like that to steal their eyes.  _ She has the Sight this way. Maybe she doesn’t want to change. _ “Okay. You think this will make a difference?” 

Cordelia spilled the marbles across the table. They scattered in an array like before. Misty squinted at them. The lamplight struck them and refracted.  _ It’s not right. _ The light was too yellow. It wasn’t natural. The thunder quivered through the house from outside. Misty tilted her head, hoping something would appear before her. No visions leapt up at her. “Anything?” Cordelia asked. 

Her head throbbed with an ache. “Nothing,” she said softly. “I don’t see anything.” 

One warm-toned hand extended across the table and pressed it flat to the beads. Cordelia’s fingers crawled by them like a baby over a floor, investigating the unfamiliar surface. Her fingers crossed the marbles. Mouth open, she breathed from between her lips as she considered. Then she said, “Supreme Wilma Pelletier’s broach is in the nightstand beside our bed.” 

_ Our bed.  _ Misty’s face burned. All of the blood rushed to her ears. She forgot the name Cordelia had just said. Was it really their bed? “I’ll go find it.” No, she was just Cordelia’s guest. But Cordelia said it was their bed. Was it not a temporary arrangement? She had thought so, but now, she wasn’t as certain as before.  _ Don’t overthink it.  _ Surely she would eventually get a room or share with someone else. It was stupid for her to think about something Cordelia said when she misspoke. Misty headed out of the room and jogged upstairs. The hollow sound pursued her up to the room—Fiona’s old room. 

She straightened the bedsheets. Cordelia had made the bed, but it was skewed and crooked. Then, she slid open the drawer of the nightstand. It was overflowing with needles and medications. Careful with her fingers, Misty picked through the assortment of drugs.  _ This isn’t safe. _ She could only imagine the ramifications if Cordelia plunged her hand into this drawer and came back with a hand filled with used needles. Lifting the needles from the drawer, Misty dropped all of them in an empty shoebox under the bed and tossed it into the trash. She shoveled the medication out of the drawer and put it on top of the table, uncertain what else to do with it. 

The bottom of the drawer was bare. Misty pursed her lips.  _ That can’t be right. _ Cordelia had been so sure about the location of the broach. She tapped the base of the drawer with uncertainty. It sounded hollow.  _ A secret compartment like in the movies? _ Feeling like quite the sleuth, Misty drummed her fingertips on bottom of the drawer, and then she grabbed the edge of the plywood piece with her nails and dragged it upward. Underneath rested a velvet box, like for a ring. Misty flipped it open. Inside, the broach glimmered.  _ Wow. She was right. _ Misty’s tongue darted out across her lips. That was impressive—Cordelia had Divined from the marbles without even seeing them.  _ She’s so cool _ . Misty didn’t know why everyone else discarded Cordelia and her valuable knowledge of magic and her strength. 

Taking the broach, Misty headed back down the stairs. Her feet pattered on the wooden floor, and as she approached, Cordelia turned to face her. Misty flanked her. “You were right.” She offered the broach to Cordelia, ornate and intricate in its design. She admired the gemstones. Misty was not a vain person. She had her jewelry pieces, mostly inherited from her grandmother, but nothing quite as precious or as valuable as the pin in Cordelia’s hand.

The broach gave Cordelia visions. Her breath changed when she Saw things, Misty had noticed—it hitched up in her chest and then became more shallow with quick pants. As it leveled out again, Misty waited to hear what she had Seen. Cordelia delivered. “Fiona used it as part of a ruse to convince people she was royalty.”

Misty snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I could make up something like that.” Misty arched an eyebrow, still not totally convinced Cordelia wasn’t pulling her leg. “Fiona was power hungry. It was a fix for her.”  _ Still, that seems… _ Misty didn’t know the word. Clearing her throat, Cordelia turned back to the table with the marbles. “You need the sky. The light, to Divine anything out of the marbles. Is that right?” 

She looked at the marbles again. They still said nothing to her. “Yeah, I guess so.” She didn’t know why it wouldn’t work, but Cordelia’s idea was as good as any. Stepping back, Cordelia opened the curtains again, and the gray light from the sky bled out onto the marbles and sparked upon them. The gleaming light met her eyes like the northern lights. Even through the clouds and the rain, the light spoke to her. The wind assailed the house, and thunder crackled outside. The way the trees bent outside conveyed sign language, all of their limbs moving in patterns only she could understand. She saw a woman wearing a ruby necklace which hung low around her neck, directing witches to use their magic in the kitchen as they cooked. She had elderly hands. The ruby at the end of the necklace gleamed and glittered. “Supreme Mimi De Longpre has a ruby necklace,” Misty said. “It’s in the jewelry box on the top of the piano.” 

Misty turned on her heel to go retrieve the necklace, trotting over to the piano. She resisted the urge to bang on its keys. She didn’t want to mess up the grand piano with its many intricacies and its professional build. Stevie had touched it—that made it holy. But some part of Misty was still a young child wanting to tinker out tiny melodies on the ivory keys and pick out some of the tunes she knew and make up tunes she didn’t. Opening the jewelry box, the bold ruby necklace was right on top.  _ I bet Fiona wore it a lot. _ Fiona was vain enough to like wearing it regularly. 

It crumpled up into Cordelia’s hand. Cordelia didn’t tell her a story about this one. She merely placed it beside the others on the table. “Do you need the marbles?” 

“Uh… I’ve been looking at them, yeah?”  _ I needed the sky. I needed the light on the marbles for it to work. _ Her whole life, she had relied on the sky for information. The sky had guided her, a teacher, a parent. The sky was part of the village that had raised her. 

Cordelia stepped back away from the window and scraped the marbles back into the jar. Some of them escaped and bounced across the hardwood floors. Misty went scrambling after them and picked them up between her fingers one by one, admiring the way they glittered in the light before she dropped them back into the jar with the rest of their companions. “Try again,” Cordelia said. “With just the sky. See what it tells you. Nothing extra to get in the way.” She gestured with an open hand to the sky, and it growled back at her in response. Misty shuffled closer to the window. 

The gray-black clouds billowed overhead. The rain pelted down upon the land. The overgrown grass blustered in the wind. The trees waved their signs through the air.  _ What else can I find? _ This felt more natural, more right.  _ Why didn’t we start with this?  _ The clouds curdled, cumulonimbus, heavy, fat. She imagined she could reach out and touch them and pull them back like dirty, sodden cotton from a field. If she peeled back the thick, drenched layers of clouds like an onion, she would find the secrets beneath them, written just for her and anyone else borne of soil and blood. The pelting rhythm of the rain spoke a code, Morse, tapping out to her in broken letters forming words. 

The soft feeling in the pit of Misty’s stomach whirled around like she had dropped off the steep incline on a rollercoaster. It was airy and light. Her belly hiccuped in response. The atmosphere thrummed its living soul back into her. It nourished her. Thunder, Mother Nature’s heartbeat, and the wind, her rushing blood, throbbed around Misty. The lightning battered her around like a helicopter maple seed. The air lifted around her skin. Goosebumps erupted all over her. A shiver trickled down her spine like a cold stream of water. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

The wind sucked her up into it and whispered words into her ears through the ceaseless howls of desperation. The words, Latin spells tied to the magic she was learning here, kicked a vision before her: a pocket watch with a long chain. A beautiful woman lifted it out of the pocket of her dress and checked the time, and then she hurried into the tree line of a deciduous forest, heading toward a glittering bonfire where other witches awaited wearing heavy red robes casting their faces into shadow. The pocket watch dropped back into the woman’s pocket. The vision shimmered back into the house. “Supreme Paulina Melba had a pocket watch. It’s in your jewelry box,” Misty said. Her voice shivered from her lungs, breathless and short, and she wondered how long she had gone without breathing while the sky betrayed its secrets to her ears. 

A coy smile curled upon Cordelia’s lips. “Yes. It is. I’ve been meaning to have it fixed for years… It doesn’t tick anymore. I think the gears are rusty. It’s very old.” 

Misty nodded along. It made sense. “Why haven’t you had it worked on?” 

“It’s…” Cordelia trailed off in deep thought, like she struggled to fathom a good excuse, and then she cleared her throat with a sigh. “Years ago, I talked with a few horologists—clock repairers—but none of them were comfortable working with something so old. It was going to be expensive.” She hedged her words. Misty waited for the rest. Lowering her voice, Cordelia admitted, “Hank didn’t want me to restore any of our relics.” 

Misty’s brow quirked. “Why?” 

“His excuse was that our resources were better spent locating and educating witches.” 

A sad silence followed. Misty touched the inside of Cordelia’s wrist.  _ He was killing them.  _ Of course Hank didn’t want Cordelia to spend time or money restoring her own history. He had nothing to gain from that. “Well, we can have it fixed now,” Misty said, trying to brighten Cordelia’s glum look. “We could probably have a bunch of stuff restored back to its original form.” 

Cordelia squeezed her hand, but she was still quiet. “Yes.” The monosyllabic answer concerned Misty. She wanted to press for more. As she thought about it, Cordelia offered, “I was foolish to trust him for so long. I praised myself for showing up my mother… But I don’t know if I ever really loved him.” 

“You don’t?” Cordelia looked as happy as Misty had ever seen her in those wedding pictures. 

Shaking her head, Cordelia said, “No… I loved the idea of defying Fiona. She hated him. I think I stayed with him because I loved angering her. I was so petty—and so naive.” Misty pursed her lips as Cordelia insulted herself. “It was childish of me. All of it. I put the coven in danger.” 

“So has everybody else in this house,” Misty pointed out. “What with Madison, being Hollywood. Zoe, marching zombies into the house and trying to teach them how to be people again. Queenie, running off to Marie Laveau. Nan, bringing in the council. Myrtle, killing people. Hell, almost everybody here has been dead once. Not to mention Fiona. There’s nothing you have done differently from everybody else.” She grimaced a weak smile. “You know this place is a big, culty clusterfuck, yeah?” 

Cordelia snorted a short breath out her nose. “We’re going to fix it. We have to fix it.” Outside, the rain and wind lightened up into a drizzle. Misty eased at the sound. Without the thunder, Cordelia’s posture relaxed. The deafening vibrations made her tenser than usual, and in their absence, she loosened up. “The weather’s calming down?” It was a meek question directed at Misty. 

_ We’re gonna fix it. _ Misty carried those words inside her. Cordelia wanted her to help repair the coven. “Yeah. At least for a little while. It’s slowing down to a sprinkle right now.” 

Cordelia nodded. She pulled her hand back to herself and folded it over the handle of her cane. Misty followed it with her gaze but not with her hand, waiting for Cordelia to reply. After a moment’s pause, she spoke. “Do you think less of me? For that, or for anything else?” 

_ She’s not touching me.  _ Cordelia had withdrawn herself from Misty.  _ She’s afraid of the real answer.  _ Tenderly, Misty took Cordelia’s hand again. Cordelia flinched. “Of course not.” She spoke low and earnest, staring at her faint reflection in Cordelia’s sunglasses and wishing she could bore her honesty into her with her gaze. “I would never. You’re my friend.” 

The nervous line of Cordelia’s mouth curled upward at the edges. She nodded, an acquiescence, and lowered her head. “Thank you, Misty.” 

Misty grinned at her, hoping she would perk back up. “I bet we could go outside and practice some  _ Star Trek _ before the storm swings back in again.” 

A short chuckle breathed from Cordelia. “You haven’t found the last relic.” 

“It’s in the drawer by the front door. C’mon.” Misty marched toward the door. Cordelia hooked her arm around Misty’s. They walked out of the house and into the dim gray light of the dying storm. 


	7. Clouds Never Expect It When It Rains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title: "Edge of Seventeen" Stevie Nicks
> 
> Sorry for the long wait! I am considering putting this story on hiatus until it becomes more agreeable to write. Right now, it's like pulling teeth... It just doesn't want to be written. It's frustrating for me. I'm going to try to establish a more regular writing schedule and encourage the ideas to flow, since I hate leaving projects unfinished, but I have a lot of other ideas waiting to be written, and I hate putting them on hold because this one doesn't want to flow. 
> 
> There's smut ahead in this chapter! You're welcome ;)

The rain had cooled the atmosphere as Cordelia stepped out upon the lawn holding Misty’s arm. She breathed a chuckle under her breath as the grass licked her ankles with rainwater. The chilly breeze shook the trees overhead. As they passed beneath them, raindrops fell from the leaves. They splattered, fat and heavy, in Cordelia’s hair. _It’s cold._ The rainfall had slowed into a faint drizzle.

Her heart swelled up, gray and used, like drenched cotton. Misty intended to cheer her up, but some of her sadness refused to lose its grip, no matter how Misty distracted her. Cordelia’s guilt clung to her. And she had _so much_ guilt. 

Misty cleared her throat. Cordelia perked up at the sound. The wind through the trees muffled everything a little. She had to strain to hear everything. The rain had crazed the birds, which sang just like they did at dawn. It was all distracting. “So we’re playing _Star Trek_?” Misty asked cheekily. 

The sadness softened inside of her. She smiled and nodded. “No transporters, though.” She released Misty’s arm from her grip. Misty didn’t move; she remained steadfast there, beside her, blocking the wind from touching her. “It’s called transmutation,” she said, more seriously now. “And it can be dangerous. If you don’t have enough intent, you can wind up in tons of places you don’t mean to go.” Cordelia remembered, when she was a girl, a witch who had attended Miss Robichaux’s who could transmute. The girl had always transmuted in her sleep, in her dreams. Once she appeared in the front yard in the wee hours of the morning, naked. _I wonder what became of her._ All of the girls Cordelia had known as a child had fled far, far away from the academy as adults. 

“So if I wanna go to the Maldives?” 

Cordelia held up her hand. “No, no--don’t go to the Maldives. Let’s start small. Just back here.”

“Oh, that’s boring.” 

“I know. I’m such a buzzkill.” 

Misty laughed, and the sound of it lifted Cordelia’s heart into her throat. Misty made her warm on the inside. “Alright. You got a lot of confidence in me doing all these fancy things.” _There’s only this and one more,_ Cordelia thought with her eyebrows raised. _She is the Supreme._ What were the odds that Misty could perform five of the seven wonders, but not the last two? Cordelia didn’t think there had ever been a witch recorded in history with so many powers who hadn’t eventually ascended to take the Supremacy. “So what do I do this time?” 

_I don’t know._ Cordelia had never transmuted before. But she had read a lot about it, and she guessed that was about the same--that was what she knew about all of the magic she passed on to Misty. None of it was within the realm of her power. “Look at where you want to go and think about it. Imagine yourself being there, but not walking toward it.” 

“Sounds like it’ll give me a migraine.” 

“Just try it.” _You’re so powerful._ Cordelia wondered if Misty knew it, if she recognized the sheer force of the magic pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart. Misty was composed of raw, unharnessed energy, and yet it comprised such a gentle soul: one who liked to pick flowers and enjoyed her solitude and the smell of the autumn leaves and the rain and the sound of the crickets. _I don’t know if we’ve ever had such a Supreme before in history._ She prayed Supremacy would not break Misty’s spirit. 

Restraining herself from reaching out to touch Misty again, Cordelia waited with baited breath. She listened. Under the dull roar of the wind, the sound of Misty drinking in a heavy breath met her ears. She held it. Then, her person _whooshed_ and a loud _crack_ resounded from across the yard. “Misty?” Cordelia called. The drizzle sprayed tiny droplets of water into her face when the breeze caught them. “Misty?”

A breathless voice erupted. “Oh my god, my leg! I left my leg!”

“ _Misty!_ ” Cordelia ran toward her. The grass dragged at her feet. _Her leg!_ How did that happen? How did they lose a whole limb? The books never said anything about that. 

She rammed into Misty. Misty let a loud, “Oof!” from her lungs and landed on her butt in the grass. Cordelia grabbed onto the front of her dress and fell with her, landing on top of her. As Misty fell into the overgrown grass, she tossed her head back and laughed aloud. Cordelia fumbled for Misty. Her hands combed over Misty’s legs, both of which were firmly attached to her body at the hips. “Oh my god, you weren’t supposed to take me seriously.”

Cordelia’s mouth gaped open. “But--you--your--” She felt Misty’s hips again, just to make sure there were two whole limbs attached to both sides of her body. She had two legs. Both fit snugly on her person. Cordelia’s lower jaw shook with shock. She closed it with a distinct click. _It was a joke._ As it settled upon her, so did relief. Misty wasn’t hurt. She was in one piece. She was safe. “You scared me!” But these words held no gravity. She began to laugh, higher pitched and more nervous than Misty’s, whose chest quaked with the depth of her humor. 

The wet grass soaked into their clothes. Misty pushed Cordelia out of her lap and steadied her at the waist as she stood. “I’m sorry. That was a mean joke. I didn’t mean you to take it for real.” She snorted through her nose as she tried to stifle her own laughter. “The look on your face, though--” 

The corner of Cordelia’s eye twitched. She giggled, covering her mouth with her right hand. In her left, she still clutched her cane. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.” She reached out a hand to Misty. “That was very good. I’m just--I told you, I’m too old to have fun anymore.” 

“Is that so?” The tone to Misty’s voice indicated she had taken a challenge in Cordelia’s words. “We can find out.” 

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “What?” she asked, an incredulous laugh clinging to her single word. 

Misty poked her on the shoulder. “Tag. You’re it!” _Whoosh._ Crack! “Come and get me!” Misty called from across the yard. 

_What?_ Uncertain feet placed themselves on the lumpy lawn. The wind picked up, muffling the sound of Misty’s light footsteps in the grass. Bowing down, Cordelia charged in the direction she had last heard Misty, but once she reached the center of the yard, she lost her bearings. _This game is totally unfair._ “Marco!” she called out. 

“Polo!” Misty called back. _Maybe not._ Cordelia chased after the sound of her voice. Misty disappeared like a wisp. _I want to be with her._

_Whoosh._ Crack! Her body sucked in like through a vacuum. She stumbled forward, scrambling to keep her footing, and grabbed Misty by the shoulder. “Whoa--” She braced herself against Misty’s body. Misty took her by the waist and held her up. “Did I just--” 

“That was really cool!” Cordelia blinked. She felt dizzy. Her head was spinning. Her back teeth rattled in her jaw, a dentist driving a power tool into her bone. “You got me, Miss Cordelia. I’m it.” 

Shaking herself, Cordelia nodded. “Right--oh, right, I’m supposed to run.” She said it aloud before she realized how stupid it sounded. Was she so old that she had forgotten how to play tag? She picked up her cane and ran away from Misty. _Where can I go?_ She held out her cane and her arm alike, but she ran recklessly. _Where am I?_ Her feet heavily slapped the grass and then the pavement as she crossed the driveway. Little stones stung the soles of her feet. “Marco!” 

“Polo!” Misty’s voice echoed from across the yard. Then she _whooshed_. Cordelia whirled around to run the other way. Crack! Quick footsteps raced after her, a hair’s breadth away. “I’m gonna get you!”

“Like hell!” _Whoosh!_ This time, Cordelia sucked in a deep breath in preparation to land on the ground, and she did. The crack sound of her reappearing resounded. She bumped against the side of a building. _The house?_ She pressed a hand to the wall. Glass. _The greenhouse._ A clot of plants growing along the side of the building startled her. _I know where I am._ She had planted all of these plants. She guided herself around the corner of the building and shrank back into the shrubbery. Then, small where she hid herself in the greenery, she listened closely for the sound of Misty’s footfalls. Thunder rumbled overhead, distant but growling enough to muffle Cordelia’s hearing, much to her annoyance. 

She stifled her own breathing, hoping to keep from betraying her position. Then, she heard the sound of Misty’s feet slapping the pavement. She paused there in the driveway. _She doesn’t see me._ Cordelia grinned to herself in satisfaction. She had successfully hidden. The game of tag was not hide-and-seek, but she was at a disadvantage. She would take what she could get. 

Breathing shallowly to keep from making a sound, Cordelia heard Misty’s feet disturb the grass, but she was walking now. “Miss Cordelia?” Misty called. “Marco?” 

_Really?_ Cordelia wanted to roll her eyes. “Polo!” she called back reluctantly. 

At the sound of Misty’s footsteps plodding toward her, and then picking up into a trot, Cordelia broke out of the shrubs where she had hidden and charged down the length of the building. _Whoosh!_ Crack! She collided with Misty. “You’re it!” Misty tore away from her. Cordelia charged after her. She stormed through a mud puddle and splattered the water and the muck all over herself and her clothing, but she paid no mind to those things. She pursued Misty.  Her feet clambered over the earth, yards ahead of her. 

_Whoosh._ Cordelia stopped where she stood, listening for the following crack of Misty landing. It didn’t come. Cordelia turned on her heel. “Backyard,” she said to herself aloud. Not even she could hear that well. She trotted around the side of the house. Her bare feet sank into the earth. At some point, she had lost her shoes in the mud, and she didn’t even care. “Marco!” she called. 

No answer. 

Cordelia made her way to the side of the greenhouse. “Marco!” she called again. Her own voice echoed back at her, but Misty didn’t answer her. “Misty?” Her voice was hesitant. She hadn’t heard the crack of Misty landing. “Misty!” She pivoted on the balls of her feet. “Misty, it’s not funny!”

Nothing answered her. Only the silence and the wind and the thunder rumbling overhead, a vague sort of language which she could not grasp the edges of. _I need to find her._ What if she had landed poorly? What if she had _really_ lost her leg? What if she was hurt? _We shouldn’t have been playing._ Heart in her throat, Cordelia paced in a circle. “Misty!” It was a final cry, a resolution, a prayer that Misty would hear her, heed her desperation, and come out laughing at her gullibility again. It didn’t happen. _Misty wouldn’t think this is funny._  

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Cordelia rocked back onto her heels, holding onto her cane by its handle. _I have to find her. I have to find her._ What could she do? _I transmuted to her earlier._ It was such a small range, just a few yards. She had no idea _where_ Misty had ended up. The odds that she could manage such a long range were slim. But what other choice did she have? None of the other witches would help her. 

_I want to be with her._ It thrummed in the pit of her stomach and twisted. She feared she would vomit. Gnarling like the roots of an ancient tree, her magic clawed up from within her. _I need to find her._ She focused on _Misty_ , instead of a place. She needed to be with _Misty,_ no matter where that was. Her body quivered with effort. Her magic reached to her fingertips and her toes and pushed back inside. 

_Whoosh._ Crack! Cordelia smashed into the ground and landed on her knees. Her cane rolled out of her grasp. Her lungs burned and her back ached. “Misty.” She intended to call out her name, but her breath caught in her throat, and she coughed. “Misty!” She choked on the name. 

A soft hand touched the inside of her wrist. “Hey--Miss Cordelia, it’s alright.” Misty sounded bleary, but she was happy. Cordelia clawed toward her. “Hey--it’s alright, you’re safe,” Misty repeated. Cold muck seeped into Cordelia’s clothing. Misty helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry. I wanted to see how far I could go--but going here and back was, um, a little bit much.” 

An emptiness, a hollowness, throbbed inside of her. _She’s depleted, too,_ Cordelia realized. “Where are we? How far did we…?” Her hands desperately pawed upward, landing on Misty’s face, positively identifying her. It wasn’t a trick. Misty was real. The shock abated. She kept her hands framing Misty’s face. 

“We’re in the swamp. Hour drive or so.” Misty paused. “How’d you find me?” 

The massive expenditure of magic had worn on Cordelia. She cleared her throat and shook her head to try to chase away the dizziness. “I--I wanted to go to you. That’s what happened.” _Just like before._ She gulped. She was making a habit of doing risky things to keep up with Misty. _That’s what friends are for._ “I was worried you were hurt.” 

Misty smiled into her hand. “You’re too sweet, Miss Cordelia.” The wind pulsed through the trees and caused them to buckle and sway overhead, making rattling sounds in the leaves. The cold breeze touched Cordelia’s wet skin, sweaty from all the exertion of running and transmuting and exhausting her magic. She shivered with the chill. Thunder rumbled overhead as the storm moved across the land toward the swamp. _The forest is loud._ Cordelia never would’ve realized it before, in her old life, but now, as she sank barefoot into the mud with her cane out of her grasp and clung to Misty, every noise inundated her. “What do we do now?” Misty asked. 

_What do we do now?_ Cordelia didn’t have a clue. They couldn’t go back yet. She didn’t have her phone on her to call for help. _We just have to wait._ “Uh… Well, if memory serves me, I found you, so… you’re it.” The mud was sloppy from the fresh rain. Cordelia plodded off through it, slinging the mess with every step. She kept her arms out in front of her. As she trotted, she bounced off of trees. _I hope it’s too cold for any snakes to be out._ Between her and a venomous snake, she would never stand a chance. 

Dragging through some brush, she clambered over a rotting log and landed in a shallow brook with a pebble-laden bottom. _Is she following me?_ She couldn’t hear Misty’s footfalls in the squelching mud. Swinging out of the brook, she climbed up the opposite bank. Misty’s voice followed her. “Marco!”

“Polo!” As Misty crashed through the brush toward her, Cordelia grinned to herself and hurried up the bank. The brook splashed when Misty sloshed into it. Recklessly, she darted forward. The thorn bushes seized her pants and her skin like cat scratches and pierced her flesh. Her heart fluttered in her chest like it had wings. The stupid smile on her face stretched broad as the sun in spite of the thunder rumbling overhead, growing steadily louder as the clouds moved nearer. She was laughing. 

An ivy tendril seized her ankle and tripped her. She caught herself on the trunk of a tree. Misty jabbed her. “You’re it!” Cordelia sprang after her, jerking her foot free, but Misty was faster. She knew the terrain. She could see and dodge the briar bushes and prickly brambles that inhibited Cordelia. Cordelia bulldozed her way straight through the foliage, chasing the sound of Misty’s footsteps until she couldn’t hear them anymore. She paused against the trunk of a tall tree. 

The wind tousled her hair. But she didn’t care. She was having fun. “Marco!” 

“Polo!” At Misty’s reply, Cordelia bowed her head and dashed toward the sound. The wind carried it sideways and skewed it. The rattle of thunder boomed louder. A faint spray of drizzle cascaded upon her. _Oh, great._ The rain soaked her clothing and chilled her. She didn’t forfeit. Head down, she trucked between the trees as the grove thickened. She couldn’t run through the trees anymore. They grew too close together. 

Soundwaves reverberated off of the trunks and created an echo. “Marco!” she called again. _Can Misty see me?_ Nervousness flicked inside of her. Maybe playing here hadn’t been such a good idea. 

“Polo!” Misty’s voice died off with the next crack of thunder overhead. Cordelia flinched. Lightning split the sky. The deafening thunder repeated itself. 

Arms extended, Cordelia plowed right into a tree. The drizzle pittered into a downpour. The white noise, raindrops hitting leaves and the earth and everything in between, fat as golf balls, muted any other sound. Cordelia strode a few steps away from the tree she had run into, but she bumped into another tree. _I can’t get out of this._ “Misty!” she called. The wind drowned out her voice. _She’ll never be able to hear me!_ She couldn’t hear anything above the wind and the rain. “Misty, I can’t find you!” 

A tree trunk moaned in the distance. Everything popped. The wood branches snapped with death, shoved by the wind. Cordelia retreated against the trunk of the tree she had chosen at the sound of the falling tree crying out in distress. The ground trembled underneath her bare feet. She curled her toes in the mud. Twigs sprayed across her face. _That was close._ She had nowhere to run. 

A hand closed around her wrist. Cordelia whirled around with a gasp. “Hey…” It was Misty’s familiar lilt. The wind pulsed over her words. The touch sucked Cordelia into a vision. Misty pushed her against the tree in the rain and thunder and kissed her, hard, and she tilted her head back and strung her arms around Misty’s neck and pulled her closer and closer until their naked and wet skins pulsed against one another. Cordelia’s lips fluttered. “You alright?”

“I--I--” The thunder snapped. She sprang forward on reflex and grabbed Misty, shivering from head to toe. This wasn’t fun anymore. _I need to stop thinking about that. They’re just dirty thoughts._ None of her visions worked like that. And she was scared, now, and she needed Misty to get home safely. What was wrong with her? 

“Alright, alright, Miss Cordelia. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride.” Misty's soft hand caressed Cordelia's cheek. She hiccuped in surprise at the skin on her own. Delicate fingers tucked a lock of her wet hair behind her ear. Cordelia's eyes flickered closed as she relished in the sweet touch. She leaned forward, tilting her head upward toward Misty. In spite of the biting wind, the heat of Misty's breath fluttered over Cordelia's lips. _She's close._ Cordelia's mouth opened slightly, tasting her breath. The pad of Misty's thumb ran under the bow of Cordelia's lips. Then she chuckled, breaking the reverie. “We can get shelter.”

The magic of the moment disappeared. Cordelia blinked in surprise. She tilted her head down again, nodding. Misty took her by her hands. “Hop on.” _I can walk._ The thunder roared overhead. Cordelia flinched. She wrapped her arms around Misty's neck obediently. Misty caught her legs and bounced her up high onto her back. “Oof! There we go.” Misty plodded onward, bending forward. “I got you.” Cordelia knotted her ankles around Misty's abdomen. _I'm getting her clothes all messy_ . Burying her nose into Misty's sodden locks, Cordelia inhaled deeply. She could See from touching Misty the images of the shack. _That's where she's taking me._ Misty was soft. She smelled good. Her every step shifted Cordelia on her back. Misty bounced her a few times with a giggle. Cordelia tightened her grip, laughing breathlessly in return, trying to pull herself out of her own mind. 

The roaring thunder muffled all of the other sounds for Cordelia. She pressed her ear to Misty’s skin to try to lessen the sound. She wanted to hear Misty’s heartbeat, like she could when they lay together in bed at night. But she couldn’t make it out, even when she held her breath to mute herself. 

“Here we are.” Misty leaned back and planted Cordelia’s feet on the wet earth. As Misty turned to face her, Cordelia extended a cold, dewy hand and placed it on Misty’s cheek. Misty grinned. Her dimples popped out. She touched Cordelia’s face in return. “Hey,” she said. 

A bunch of bees gargled inside of Cordelia’s stomach. “Hi.” The wind ripped through the trees. With its shriek, she flinched, stumbling forward. Misty’s other arm hooked around her waist. She looped her arm around Misty’s neck. Their breaths mingled in the space between them. 

Warmth beat off of Misty’s face. When Cordelia blinked, her eyelashes brushed Misty’s face. She trailed her thumb over the cheek beneath her palm. “You alright?” Misty asked. 

_Oh, help me._ Cordelia’s lips trembled. “Uh-huh.” Misty stroked her cheek. “Misty, I…” The words got lost on her tongue. She forgot what she was going to say. All of the feelings in her stomach and chest blurred together like wet paint bleeding. 

The pad of Misty’s thumb trailed over her lips. “It’s okay.” _What is?_ “I understand.” _You do?_ Misty turned her head and kissed the inside of Cordelia’s wrist. The tenderness of it made her shake. No one had ever touched her like this before--no one. Misty’s lips pressed to the paper thin skin there. Hitching a breath, Cordelia waited. Misty’s hand guided her head up. She followed it, tilting her head back. 

A delicate breath moved across her lips. The millisecond notice allowed Cordelia to pucker her lips, and then Misty whispered life back into her mouth. “Mm…” Their lips brushed. Misty caressed her, gentle as dew on the grass, but the thunder and the howling wind drove Cordelia into Misty’s arms. She lifted onto her toes and deepened the kiss, pulling Misty in deeper. 

The rain poured over them. It wasn’t so cold anymore. Misty nuzzled against Cordelia’s face, bumping her glasses. Their lips moved in tandem. Cordelia opened her mouth. Misty filled the space. Her bare feet churned in the mud as Misty pushed her backward. Her back struck the trunk of a tree. “Oof…” All of the air gusted out of her lungs. The kiss broke for just a moment, but then Misty dove into it again. Cordelia received her. 

She tingled from head to toe. Her arms snaked around Misty’s neck and held her there. The rough bark of the tree scraped her back through her sodden blouse. Misty’s mouth slipped off of hers again, this time sliding downward onto her neck. Hasty lips and teeth plucked at her skin. The wind shook the boughs of the tree above them. It dropped fat raindrops onto Cordelia’s face and neck, but as she shivered, Misty licked them away one by one, sucking the spot where each of them had struck. 

At the junction between her neck and shoulder, the collar of Cordelia’s shirt got in the way. Cordelia opened her mouth to land on Misty’s neck in turn. The cold rainwater poured upon them. She shivered. Goosebumps rose all over her arms. Her hands shivered. The sinew of Misty’s neck shifted under her tongue and teeth. _She’s perfect._ Misty’s figure pressed against hers. The taste of her sweat mingled with the rainwater tempted Cordelia. The wind deafened her, but Misty’s blood pulsed in her carotid artery, and Cordelia sucked at it. The blood pressed against the flat of her tongue. 

Clumsy hands found the top button of Misty’s blouse. Misty took her by the wrists. Cordelia froze. _I overstepped._ “Let’s go inside.” Misty framed her face between her hands and kissed her. It flashed before Cordelia’s Sight, Misty’s intentions--both of them, strewn out on the twin sized mattress, naked and wrapped up in blankets and one another. _Oh, yes._ Cordelia nodded. Misty scooped her up and carried her to the shack. She swayed with every step. 

Misty placed Cordelia on the mattress. The door swung open behind them with the wind. Misty bumped it closed and pushed something heavy in front of it so it wouldn’t leap open again. Breath baited, Cordelia held out her arms. “Come back,” she beckoned in a whisper. 

The mattress sank as Misty sat on it. Cordelia scooted out of the way to give her more room, but she almost tumbled off the other side. Misty grabbed her by the wrist and steadied her. She curled up beside her. They shared a pillow. _Kiss me again!_ Cordelia wanted to demand. She bit the tip of her tongue and settled beside Misty with a grunt of thanks. As if reading her mind, Misty pressed another soft kiss to her lips. Before Cordelia could deepen it, Misty pulled back. “Are you sure you want this?” 

Fear clouded Misty’s voice. Cordelia found her hand and tangled their fingers together. “I’ve been Seeing this for days now,” she admitted. 

A brief silence followed, and then, Misty said, “It’s not every day my wet dreams are actually the future.” 

Cordelia snorted a chuckle. She squeezed Misty’s hand. “Are _you_ sure?” 

Misty rolled over on top of her. Cordelia’s legs spread on reflex. “I never been more sure of anything before in my life.” She bowed down and kissed Cordelia’s mouth. “Hang on… Lemme take these off, first.” She hooked her fingers under Cordelia’s sunglasses. 

Her hands grabbed Misty’s wrists. “Wait--” Her stomach boiled. She had no way to know what her face looked like, now, with the acid scars on top of whatever she had done to her eyes. What if she was hideous? “Do you really want to do that?” 

The fingers on her glasses froze. “Well, yeah, I want to. You look like somebody in the cast of _Men In Black._ ” But Misty didn’t proceed. She waited. “Can I?” she asked. 

Swallowing her pride, Cordelia bobbed her head in agreement. Misty slipped the glasses off of her face and put them on the small nightstand beside them, and then she kissed Cordelia again, just as tender as before. Cordelia braced herself for disgust, but Misty wasn’t disgusted. She puckered up and nuzzled back into Misty’s kiss, opening her mouth for Misty to slip inside, and she did, her tongue slithering between her lips. Cordelia suckled on her tongue. 

With a _pop_ , Misty’s tongue slid out of Cordelia’s mouth. She slid downward. Her hands unbuttoned Cordelia’s blouse one at a time, spreading open the wet fabric with each new gap. At the bottom, Cordelia lifted her back off of the bed, and Misty freed her from the blouse and tossed it somewhere off to the side. Cordelia reached to unbutton Misty’s blouse, too. Misty stilled for her. Her hands were clumsy, but Misty didn’t rush her. One by one, she snapped the buttons apart, separating the blouse. Misty shrugged out of the sleeves and let the blouse fall to the floor. 

Slow hands pawed around behind Misty’s back to unsnap her bra. She fumbled once, twice, but she couldn’t find any fabric. Her brow quirked. Misty chuckled and took her hands, putting one on each of her bare breasts. “You looking for something, Yucca?” 

Face flushing, Cordelia raised her eyebrows in return. “I found it.” Her voice was small. She ran her fingers over Misty’s modest breasts, teasing the flesh. In her hands, Misty’s chest expanded with every breath. Misty pecked her on her lips. As Cordelia drew her thumbs over Misty’s nipples, they hardened and became erect. A quiet moan breathed from between Misty’s lips. 

Misty’s hands slipped behind Cordelia and unhooked her bra. “You’re so beautiful, Yucca-girl.” The bra disappeared somewhere in the heap of clothing forming on the floor. _She means it._ Every touch Misty placed on her skin pressed adoration into her flesh. Misty kissed down her neck toward her breasts and opened her mouth to suck on mouthfuls of fat she collected. She bumped her nose over Cordelia’s nipple. When it stood up, she popped it between her lips. 

“Oh!” She should have seen it coming, but it surprised her. Cordelia arched her back, thrusting her chest upward toward Misty. Misty framed Cordelia’s rib cage between her hands. She worshiped Cordelia’s breasts with her lips and tongue. Kissing a sloppy wet line from one side to the other, Misty nursed on Cordelia’s other breast, leaving it wet with saliva. She shifted downward, kissing the sensitive place where Cordelia’s breasts lifted from her ribs, and then she moved lower still. Cordelia squirmed with the arousal blooming between her legs. Her mouth hung open, gasping for breath and then forgetting to breathe again. “Misty--” She choked out the name. “Don’t stop.”

At the hem of her pants, Misty unbuttoned them and slid them down over Cordelia’s hips. She hooked her fingers under the top hem of Cordelia’s panties and tugged them down. _I haven’t shaved._ Cordelia’s arousal shriveled up into discomfort at the thought. She almost sat up and apologized, but Misty took her thighs and spread them apart with her hands. Her wet lips pressed to her inner thigh. “This alright?” she asked, barely words. 

Outside, the storm raged on. The weather had never been so distant. “Yes.” Cordelia’s voice cracked. 

Two long fingers spread apart her labia. Misty dipped her fingers into the hot stickiness. Cordelia quivered at the touch. Fingertips pressed right outside her vagina without sliding inside. “You’re so wet…” The urge to be filled pooled inside of Cordelia. _Put them in me!_ She lifted her hips. “You’re so pretty when you’re all flustered like this.” Her thumb flicked upward and teased Cordelia’s clitoris. 

She couldn’t restrain herself. Her hips bucked. “Misty, please!”

Misty pressed the side of her face into Cordelia’s thigh as she smiled. “Aw, Miss Cordelia…” She paused. “I ought not call you that right now, I reckon.”

“Please don’t.” 

“Got it, Yucca-girl.” Cordelia wanted to question the veracity of this nickname, but before she could do so, Misty bowed her head and licked up her slick vulva, gathering up all the nectar and lapping it up before she reached her clitoris, using the tip of her tongue to tease it. Cordelia’s hips twitched. Her thighs clenched and loosened and clenched again. At her broken gasp of response, Misty pressed her fingers right above Cordelia’s vagina and licked faster. “Mm… You taste so good.” The moan right into Cordelia’s vulva made her arch her back. 

Lower jaw trembling, Cordelia’s nipples hardened. Misty’s sultry voice pressed her in all the right places. “T-Take me.” The stammer on her tongue refused to die. Her nerves quivered inside of her. _This is the first time._ It was the first time since she lost her sight--and it was the first with anyone other than Hank in over a decade. _Oh, god, I really wasted a huge chunk of my life._

Before her mind could wander, Misty obeyed, sliding her middle and ring fingers into Cordelia’s body. The digits stretched her for a moment. She lifted off of the bed. Her whole body coiled up in anticipation. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Misty’s fingers curled forward in a beckoning motion. “ _Oh_ \--” The bed shook with her force. “Yes!” 

Mouth closing around Cordelia’s clitoris, Misty sucked on it. She pumped her fingers out and back in, curling them again, and then slid them out again. Cordelia writhed. “Faster!” On command, Misty obeyed. Her hand worked faster, in and out. Every movement of her muscles drove Cordelia more and more tense. Her body began to clench up. “Oh--Misty!” Her hands flew to her breasts. She grappled with them. She tweaked her nipples between her fingers. 

Her orgasm crashed over her, a wave on the shore. “Oh!” The bed shook. Every muscle in her lower body tightened and flexed. Her vagina squeezed in a series of pulses around Misty’s two fingers. She kept sucking at her swollen clitoris. With each squeeze, Cordelia felt tighter and more tired, until she squirmed with sensitivity, and Misty slid her fingers out of her and pulled back. “Misty…” Exhaustion pulsed behind her eyes. _Wow…_ “That was really good.” 

Misty slipped up beside her and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m glad.” Cordelia fumbled for her body and took her pants by their hem, trying to pull them down. Misty touched her hands gently. “Aw, you don’t have to… I know you’re tired.” 

“I want to.”

Misty wriggled out of her pants and slid them down. She lay down beside Cordelia. “You ever done this with a woman before?” she asked. 

“It’s been a long time.” Cordelia paused. “Have you?” 

“I’ve only done it with women,” Misty admitted. She took Cordelia’s hand and tucked it between her legs. Her fingers tangled in the mass of untouched pubic hair there; Misty’s body hair grew free and unruly, like it had never known the touch of a blade. Cordelia grinned. She was tired, but this was exciting. She rolled to get on top of Misty. “Er…” Cordelia waited at Misty’s interruption. But Misty didn’t finish her thought. “Never mind.”

Cordelia waited. “What’s the matter?” 

Misty’s toes curled up in the blankets. “Nothing! Nothing’s wrong, I just… I don’t really like things going inside me.” 

Cordelia frowned. “Okay.” _That’s a roundabout way to ask me not to penetrate you,_ she almost said, but she bit her tongue. Misty hedged the words nervously, like she expected some blowback for the statement, the assertion of her boundaries. “I won’t use my fingers, then. Okay?” 

The tense muscles underneath her relaxed. Misty released an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you.” 

Leaning forward, Cordelia aimed to kiss her mouth. She missed and landed on Misty’s chin, but Misty framed her face and helped guide her back to her target. 

Misty’s lean frame coiled up beneath her. Cordelia slid her hands downward. Misty’s body was welcoming, sprawled out before her. She cupped her breasts in her hands, working her thumbs over her nipples as Misty wriggled under her, grunting little noises of pleasure and arousal. She couldn’t see Misty, but the beauty of the moment breathed back at her with each touch she placed on Misty’s skin. 

Settling between her legs, Cordelia found her body hanging off of the tiny bed. She flipped her legs up and held them over her body so they wouldn’t dangle off the bed. Looping her arms around Misty’s thighs, she spread her legs apart. The long, curly pubic hair tickled her face. Misty’s fuzzy legs brushed her shoulders. Dipping her face forward, Cordelia buried her face into Misty’s vulva, meeting the salty syrup with her tongue. 

A soft moan breathed from between Misty’s lips. _She tastes so good._ Cordelia spread her labia between two fingers. She lapped up some fluid and brought it up to her clioris. As she covered it with her tongue, Misty shuddered. Her body pulsed. _I wish I could see her._ She wanted to see Misty like this, desperate and craving the relief to her arousal. Cordelia wrapped her lips around Misty’s clitoris and sucked gently on it like a straw. “Mm!” Misty trembled and wriggled in her grasp. Using the tip of her tongue, Cordelia teased the head of Misty’s clitoris. “Gah--Delia!” The pet name perked up Cordelia’s ears. “Oh, _oui!_ _C’est bon!_ ” 

Misty’s thighs rattled with pleasure. They quivered without ceasing. The bed shook. Cordelia kept on sucking. Dirty hands tangled up in her hair, pushing her face deeper into the soft flesh. “Aye!” Her vagina tightened. At the sound of Misty’s moans, all of Cordelia’s goosebumps raised up again. Strings of liquid squeezed out of her body. “Oh, _bon dieu,_ ” Misty exhaled. 

Cordelia lapped up the liquid and joined her back up in the bed. “Was it good enough to forget English?” she teased gingerly. 

“ _Embrasse moi tchew._ ” 

Grinning, Cordelia nodded in agreement to whatever insult Misty had given her. “Well, thanks.” She leaned forward and kissed Misty tenderly. “You were right.” 

" _Oui?_ ”

_She’s doing that on purpose._ Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “I’m not too old to have fun.” 

Misty chuckled. “Of course you’re not,” she said, breaking her brief stint of French. She nuzzled against Cordelia’s face. “The storm’s rolling out… We can go home now.” 

_Home?_ The thought made Cordelia recoil. She didn’t want to go home. She liked being here, in Misty’s arms, with the quiet and the raindrops and the crickets. Home was a reminder of things to come. More magic to practice. More wonders to accomplish. Now, they had secrets to keep--she feared the ramifications of letting anyone find out about this. “Can we stay here tonight?” she asked in a small voice. 

“Yes, of course. We can stay here whenever you want.” Misty placed a hand on Cordelia’s cheek. 

The vision slapped her across the face. She held Misty in her arms--just like now. Her hands fanned through Misty’s thick hair. The blonde curls spilled over her lap. But Misty was still and cold. Her chilled breath wafted across her hand irregularly. “She’s stuck.” Cordelia’s hands tangled up in her hair. “We have to help her.” 

Myrtle sat across from them on a wooden chair, arms crossed. “There’s nothing we can do.” Her voice carried a grim note. Cordelia’s innards recoiled at it. Myrtle knew _everything_ , Myrtle could fix _anything,_ why couldn’t she fix this? “She has to get back on her own.”

Cordelia already knew it, but hearing it spoken aloud made her shiver. She bowed over Misty’s head and face, caressing her forehead. “Misty,” she whispered. “Follow my voice.” _She can’t hear me._ Tears stung behind her eyes. She worked to withhold them. Any moment, Misty would wake up, and she didn’t want to betray herself through getting so worked up. Any moment now, Misty would leap back into her arms. _Any moment now._ She had plenty of time. “We are all here waiting for you.” Somehow, she could _hear_ the grains of sand falling through the hourglass. “Sequere lucem… Venite ad me,” she begged to the cold body growing colder. 

“Her time is up,” Myrtle said, slowly, solemnly. 

“No, no--” Misty’s body began to dissolve. “No!” Cordelia grabbed handfuls of her hair, of her body, trying desperately to cling to her as she dissipated. “ _No!_ ” Her sob tore from her body. She squeezed Misty around the waist, cradling the back of her head, but the magic knew no mercy. It drank in Misty’s essence. Cordelia took handfuls of ash, but then that, too, vanished into nothingness, as she doubled over in anguish. Nothing remained of Misty but the tears on her cheeks. 

Gasping, Cordelia blinked back into reality. She pawed for Misty. Misty hadn’t moved. “Hey--” Misty’s brows furrowed under Cordelia’s touch. “You alright? What’d you See?” 

Nothing had changed. They were still in the swamp, in the cabin, in the bed, naked as jaybirds with sweat sticking their skins together. A sob choked in Cordelia’s throat. Her eyes burned an agony when they teared up. Misty wiped the tears from her mutilated skin and pecked a kiss onto the tip of her nose patiently. _That won’t happen. That can’t happen._ Cordelia quivered. She wrapped her arms around Misty and held tight to her. “I--I--” What could she do? She couldn’t tell the truth. That would scare Misty. _It was descensum._ Cordelia’s stomach whirled around. _The last wonder. The one she hasn’t done yet._ She wanted to vomit. 

Gentle, muddy hands stirred through her hair. “It’s alright, Yucca-girl… It’s alright.” 

Cordelia’s lower lip trembled. She held fast to Misty. _But…_ Misty was the next Supreme. There was no one else who could perform all the magic. _What if I’m wrong?_ Who else could it be, though? She hadn’t a clue. She licked her dry lips. “It’s nothing,” she croaked. Cordelia shivered. 

_It can’t end like that._ Misty kissed the crown of her head. “I don’t believe that for a second.” Cordelia closed her eyes tightly. “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me.” 

She hid her face in Misty’s chest. _I’ve got to find a way to make that safe._ There had to be a way. She couldn’t gamble with Misty like that. She wouldn’t let Misty die like that. _The spell. I was saying a spell._ She licked the front of her teeth. There was a book that contained that spell. She remembered it vaguely. A spell to reverse _descensum._ But in the vision, she had done it wrong--she hadn’t saved Misty.

_I have to find that whole spell. And I need to make sure it works._ Cordelia swallowed a ball of bile in her throat. Misty absently scratched her back with dull fingernails. “I love you, Yucca-girl,” Misty whispered. She tucked a lock of hair behind Cordelia’s ear. 

_I have to protect her._ Eyes closed, Cordelia snuggled up against her. “I love you, Misty,” she said, weak and thin. Was it too fast? Probably. But Misty made her boil inside like no one else ever had. The thought of losing her now--she would’ve preferred to have all of her teeth pulled out of her jaw and fingernails ripped off than even consider it. 

Misty’s heartbeat was strong and steady through her chest. Cordelia kept her ear pressed there. “Goodnight,” Misty said. “Sleep well.” She dragged her fingernails over Cordelia’s scalp. The scratches on her head calmed her stomach. Even with all of the worries on her mind, Misty thumbed through her hair and caressed her scalp, and it brought out all of the exhaustion stored just behind her eyes. In moments, her anxious mind slipped off to sleep, still clinging to Misty desperately like a raft on an ocean of uncertainty. 


	8. The Owl Casting Spells That We're Under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Carousel" by Stevie Nicks  
> I tried really hard to churn out writing! Dunno how consistent I'll be, but I really want to have this story finished before the end of the year, so I'm trying to get more writing done! Thanks!

The golden morning light sifted through the cracks and bulletholes in the walls of the cabin. Birdsong stole Misty’s sleep away from her. She spooned behind Cordelia, her arm wrapped protectively around her chest and nose buried into her hair. “Mm?” she grunted as she blinked her blurry, gritty eyes to the waking world.  _ Oh, goodness, it’s real.  _ Why this surprised her, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps some part of her thought it would turn out to be a dream.  _ Be quiet. She’s asleep.  _ Cordelia snored gently. A lock of her hair stuck to the drool leaking out of the corner of her lips. Misty took the lock of hair and tucked it behind her ear.  _ She’s beautiful. _ Even asleep, with her hair all tousled from the wind and the weather and the sex, Cordelia was the most beautiful woman Misty had ever seen before in her life. 

_ I love her.  _ Misty snuggled up behind her and pressed her face against the back of Cordelia’s neck, peppering light kisses on the skin, trying not to move too much and disturb her. Was it silly? Oh, definitely. But Misty was nothing if not silly with her heart. Her eyes fluttered closed. She relished in the touch of Cordelia’s soft skin pressing against hers, warm and dewy. This was perfect. 

_ What if she regrets it?  _ Misty licked her lips at the thought. They had acted on impulse.  _ We shouldn’t have.  _ Misty did not consider herself a first date girl.  _ This wasn’t even a first date. This was a no dates. _ She flushed. She was weak for Cordelia. She had compromised all of her better judgment, and she didn’t regret it—as long as Cordelia didn’t. Her head spun with anxiety. Had she messed up? She didn’t want to jeopardize her friendship with Cordelia. Cordelia had just gotten out of a serious, long-term relationship.  _ She was just widowed, for god’s sake. _ Misty’s toes curled into the sheets, which were tossed down at the foot of the bed to cope with the humidity. Cordelia had been  _ married _ . She had been with Hank for over a decade. Hank’s ashes had not yet finished burning. Was this all a mistake? Had she taken advantage of Cordelia? 

Her innards twisted at the thought. She tried to settle down.  _ I’m just overthinking.  _ Occupying herself, she drew patterns on Cordelia’s chest with her index finger and smelled her hair, which had the faint tinge of sweat attached to it. The creases beneath Cordelia’s breasts leaked sweat. The swamp had awoken, and with it, the sun baked the forest floor.  _ She’s going to be thirsty when she wakes up.  _ And Misty had no water to give her. Misty tried to wipe away the sweat from Cordelia’s body, kissing her shoulder. 

Cordelia turned her head, nuzzling into the pillow. “Mm… Ngh.” She cooed a sweet, satisfied sound as she squirmed on the mattress, stretching out. Her back popped as she arched. She keened and chirruped like a happy cat.  _ She’s precious.  _ Heart swelling, Misty swallowed. 

Misty pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck. “Sh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” She withdrew, trying to give Cordelia more space, but Cordelia caught her hand and held it there, making a short mumble of protest. Her words weren’t yet intelligible. Misty smiled and hid her face in the back of Cordelia’s neck. 

Tangling up their fingers together, Cordelia gave her hand a squeeze. She held Misty’s flat palm against her chest. The heel of her hand pressed to Cordelia’s rib cage, and beneath it, her heartbeat thrummed, alive and pulsing with all of her blood and magic churned together. Misty held her breath. She would do nothing to disturb Cordelia now. This bond was precarious, tying them together, and Misty could not dream of severing it. Damp skin on skin, she closed her eyes and remembered exactly how it felt last night when Cordelia explored her body with her hands like it was a new universe. 

Snuggling against the pillow, Cordelia placed Misty’s hand on her face, and then she fell still again.  _ She’s still asleep. _ The uncharacteristically clingy behavior teased Misty. Her stomach leapt at the tenderness in the way Cordelia touched her. Was this the new normal for the two of them? Were they going to be a  _ thing? _ Misty’s heart quivered. She had a lot of questions, questions that only Cordelia could answer. What would the coven think? Surely it wasn’t allowed. Cordelia was a teacher.  _ But I’m not exactly a student.  _ She knew she had a few years on the other girls, and she’d wound up at the academy trying to avoid execution, not seeking knowledge. 

_ And it’s not like there’s a council around anymore to punish her. _ Myrtle had seen to that for them. Misty closed her eyes and slid her arm out from under her body to keep it from growing stiff. Her shoulder ached from the night of resting her whole weight on it. Her body had a sort of dull exhaustion to it; she supposed because she had gone far too long without any good sex, and Cordelia had fulfilled her need in a small bed after an afternoon of chasing through the wet woods and sloshing through the mud. She hurt. It felt good. Everything felt good with Cordelia beside her. 

When Cordelia seemed to settle, Misty slid her arm away to lie down on her back in a more comfortable position. She folded her arms behind her head and stared up at the ceiling, listening to the birds. A smile spread across her face. The sunlight washed over her through the slats in the wood composing her shack and warmed her skin. At each distinct bird cry, she identified the species.  _ A swallow. _ Jittering beaks smashed into the tree bark at a quick rhythm.  _ Woodpeckers. _ Yodeling answered the drumbeat provided by the pecking birds.  _ Warblers. Black and white warblers. Yellow warblers. Yellow-throated warblers. Cerulean warblers. Magnolia warblers. _ A delicate song tinkered like on a bell set.  _ A horned lark.  _ Finches whispered back and forth. Swamp sparrows and Acadian flycatchers conversed. The bright music blessed the day. 

As she reclined in the bed, Misty listened to the way the birdsong lilted and twirled. She could keep time like this. The birds changed their tunes throughout the day. She knew the hour from what the birds told her. She knew a lot of things from what the birds told her.  _ It’s going to be sunny and hot today.  _ Already, the air tasted heavy with saturation.  _ The wind will pick up around dusk and blow in the cool fog off the bayou.  _ Those were always her favorite times, when the mist decorated the landscape in silver and chilled it, and it left her walking through a cloud from point A to point B. 

But she wouldn’t be here to enjoy it. She had to take Cordelia back to civilization. This was no place for a person like Cordelia. The coven would miss them, eventually.  _ It might not be that hard to disappear, _ Misty thought. Would the coven even look for them? Surely Myrtle would—but the others? Would they care? Or would they merely celebrate that some of the competition for Supremacy was gone? It was a tempting notion.  _ Cordelia would never let me. _ Cordelia was loyal to the coven, and Misty was loyal to Cordelia.  _ If I’m the next Supreme, they’ll need me. _ It made her nervous, thinking about rising to accept Supremacy. She didn’t want power. It felt wrong. The wrongness of the notion still echoed down to her very bones. 

She had only one of the seven wonders left to complete. Her innards churned. Cordelia was confident in her abilities.  _ I’m confident in Cordelia.  _ She had completed every other task with ease.  _ So if I am the Supreme, what then?  _

As she thought the question, the birdsong changed its tune. A leap into a minor key caused Misty to block out her own thoughts, struggling to divine what Mother Nature had to tell her. The birds drifted downward into sadness. The sparrows silenced themselves first, and then the finches followed. The flycatcher pursued them into the quiet. The woodpeckers drummed their trees more aggressively, like angry dogs with pinned ears and bared teeth. The swallow died out. The warblers ceased their highbrow yodeling, though a few of the darker ones continued to croak, like the music had given them sore throats and left them unable to hit the prettiest soprano notes. 

Then, the cawing rose up over the rat-tat-tat of woodpeckers on the trunks of the surrounding trees. The eerie caws of crows echoed through the swamp, rebounding from the trees, much louder than any of the songbirds. Misty’s heart skipped a beat. Her eyes popped open.  _ Crows? _ Harbingers of deathly omens rarely visited her here. Before, she waited for the corvids to appear, and then she followed them to the dead. The crows and ravens guided her to lost souls in exchange for pretty trinkets. 

These crows had not come to take her to the dead. They had come to warn her. “What is it?” she whispered aloud as she listened intently. Resting on the rooftop, an owl hooted.  _ In broad daylight? _ Misty’s stomach flipped. She remembered what her grandmother had taught her:  _ If an owl hoots on the rooftop of a house, death will pay a visit.  _ Like taunting her, it hooted again. 

The caws and cackles rose into a crescendo and then died off. In the silence, one single call remained—low, then high, then low, then high, then chirping.  _ A loggerhead shrike.  _ Tongue swelling and mouth dry, Misty sucked in a deep breath through her nose. The shrike was the butcher bird. It impaled its kills for all the world to observe. Its song was decidedly not a good omen. It echoed in the silence. All light and positivity had drained from the forest sounds as the shrike called out, betraying its position. The song of the shrike indicated its hunger. 

The shrike was not Misty’s friend. She had spent too much time in her life plucking lizards, snakes, mice, and small birds off of thorns and barbed wire fences where shrikes had skewered them. The shrike left its trophies of death behind wherever it hunted. Misty gathered them up and restored life to them. They were enemies by nature. 

Beside her, Cordelia squirmed. Immediately forgetting everything she ever knew about birds and their habits of butchering prey or singing bad omens and bringing death, Misty rolled onto her side to look at her. Discomfort marred her face. She mumbled, her face twisted in pain. “Hey.” Misty took her by the arm. “Hey, Miss—Hey, Cordelia.” She bit her tongue. She had to break the habit. “Hey, Yucca. Wake up. C’mon, wake up. You don’t need to see that dream right now.” 

Wriggling and squirming, Cordelia’s bloodshot eyes opened into slits. Her eyes still moved, though she couldn’t see. She grimaced. “Misty?” Her hands both flew up and landed on Misty’s face. 

Patiently, Misty allowed Cordelia’s hands to roam her face. “I’m right here.” She touched Cordelia’s upper arm and gave it a squeeze. “You were having a bad dream.” Cordelia pawed at her until she was satisfied with Misty’s identity, and then her hands stilled, framing her face. Misty smiled. She liked the way Cordelia’s hands covered her dimples. And she liked the way Cordelia smiled back when she felt her dimples. “Are you okay?” she asked. 

“Mhm.”  _ There it is. _ As Cordelia felt her dimples, she smiled back. The expression curled up in Misty’s stomach like a happy cat nesting before the fire. “Much better, now,” she teased, and she leaned forward, nuzzling against Misty’s nude body, seeking a kiss with her lips puckered. Gingerly, Misty planted a kiss on her mouth. She folded her arms around Cordelia’s back. Cordelia pressed warmly against her skin. “You’re quiet,” Cordelia said as her cheek rested against Misty’s neck. 

_ She smells good. _ Misty lightly dragged her dull fingernails over Cordelia’s back. When her lover purred in return, she grinned. “I was just thinking about you, Yucca-girl.” 

Cordelia was smiling. Cordelia was happy. Misty had never been more pleased with herself. The thought that she had brought Cordelia this joy—it warmed her up, a fire left in a cave. “What about me?” 

Nervousness rattled her like a dry leaf clinging to a tree branch. She tried to ignore it. “Us,” she hedged. She spoke quietly. She didn’t need to speak over the wind and the rain now. Now, it was just her and Cordelia—but perhaps that made it more frightening. “What do you want us to be?” The frank question suited her best. 

Long eyelashes brushed Misty’s skin as Cordelia blinked. “What do  _ you _ want us to be?” she asked. 

“I asked first.” 

“I asked second.” 

Cordelia’s little hint of hardball made Misty dip her head with a small smile. If Cordelia wanted to be stubborn, Misty could accommodate her. “Well…” She drew patterns on Cordelia’s back with her fingers and twirled her hair to comfort herself, occupying her nervous mind. “I want to do whatever makes you the most comfortable. I want to be whatever you need me to be.” 

A brief silence followed as Cordelia considered, sucking on her lower lip, and Misty wondered if she had stepped out of line. But, slowly, Cordelia spoke an admission to her. “I haven’t had anything genuine in my entire life.” It was a whisper, these words, filled with hurt and regret. “I’m ready for something real. But… Misty, what I want isn’t the most important thing.”  _ Isn’t it? _ Misty wanted to ask. She held her tongue. She knew better. “You’re about to ascend to become the most powerful witch in the coven. You’re going to have a lot of responsibilities. And I’m not—I don’t want to be a burden on you, the way I am now. You’ve been very kind to care for me, but the coven is a full-time job. I can’t stand in the way of that.” 

Brows quirking, Misty pursed her lips. “You’re not a burden. To me or anybody else.” She pulled back out of hugging Cordelia to look at her face. Cordelia couldn’t see her, but she liked the organic feeling of looking into her eyes, anyway. It felt more genuine. “I’ve been helping you because I care about you. It takes ten seconds of my day to cut a sandwich into quarters or fill a glass of water, and it makes your life easier.” Cordelia started to open her mouth, but Misty cut her off. “Besides, it’s not gonna be like this forever. You’re going to get  _ better _ at being blind. This is still a really new thing for you. You’re learning a new skill. Just like somebody drawing something for the first time.” 

“What if it doesn’t get better?” Panic leaked into Cordelia’s voice. The corners of her scarred eyes crinkled, and wrinkles appeared on her forehead. “What if I still can’t read a year from now? Two years from now? What if I still can’t eat a meal without stabbing myself?” 

Cordelia’s fear awoke something in Misty. A serene blanket settled over her shoulders, calm and cool and collected. “Then I’ll still read to you and cut your food.” She spoke patiently. “I’m going to do whatever I can do to help you, regardless of who is the Supreme, regardless of what you are to me.” A little tear slipped from one of Cordelia’s eyes. Misty caught it on her thumb. Cordelia grimaced as Misty wiped it away. “ _ Nothing _ will happen to make it so I don’t have time for you. You being blind—that could never change how I feel about you. Especially since you did it for me.” 

Small tears slid from Cordelia’s eyes, but with each one that fell, she grimaced and her face screwed up.  _ It hurts. She’s in pain.  _ Misty framed Cordelia’s face between her hands. Cordelia started to mumble a protest, but Misty shushed her, gently pressing on her sinuses. The mutilated pink skin did not deter Misty. She had seen more than her fair share of burns. With the pads of her thumbs, she rubbed the sinuses above Cordelia’s eyes, providing steady pressure there to alleviate the pressure inside. Cordelia leaned into her hands, trusting as a bird landing inside her palm. “Misty,” Cordelia whispered as Misty rubbed small, firm circles on her face. Her eyelashes brushed Misty’s palms. “I…” Misty’s fingers moved down below her eyes and rubbed the sinuses there, too. She didn’t speak. She waited for Cordelia to process her thoughts. “Thank you.” 

With a small smile, Cordelia extended a hand and placed it on Misty’s cheek. “Thank you,” she said again. “But I—I did what I had to do to save you. You don’t have to repay me for that, ever. You don’t owe me anything.”  

“So if I don’t owe you, you don’t owe me. And we’re even. Right?”

Misty was hopeful, but she still waited for Cordelia’s affirmation. Cordelia was hesitant, but she nodded. “Right…” Misty turned her head to kiss the inside of Cordelia’s wrist. A tiny giggle left Cordelia’s mouth.  _ God, she’s precious.  _ Misty grinned. “Misty,” Cordelia said.  _ I love how she says my name.  _ “Are you  _ sure _ you want all of this? The coven _ and _ me? I know you would never think less of me, but—I mean, you’d be kidding yourself to think that I won’t need more help than someone else. And there’s the coven, and I’m not exactly a spring chicken—” 

Eyes widening, Misty snorted a laugh out of her nose. She tried to muffle it, but it still cut Cordelia off with surprise. “You’re really milking that cow, aren’t you? You do realize you’re not eighty years old, right?” 

“Well, yes, but—I’m still quite a bit older than you…” Cordelia spoke hesitantly. 

“You’re five years older than me. I know I have a baby face, but I’m not twelve. C’mon. I bet more of my joints will pop than yours.” 

This statement caused Cordelia to snort a laugh out of her nose. She licked her lips nervously. “Okay,” she agreed. She dragged her thumb over Misty’s lips. “I want this. If you do.”

Misty bowed her head into the hand on her face. “I want it, too.” She kissed Cordelia’s thumb. “I love you,” she said, quietly, tenderly, fearfully.  _ It’s true. I can say it if it’s true.  _ Saying it aloud made her heart thunder for fear of rejection. They both had endured so much—she wanted nothing more than to make Cordelia’s experience more pleasurable from here into the future. “I want to give you everything you’ve never had before and more.” Cordelia’s hand tilted her chin upward. 

Soft lips met hers and ground against them, moist like a flaky cake. Cordelia’s kisses landed on her like snowflakes—or how she imagined snowflakes would feel. Misty had never experienced real snow.  _ I want to dance with Cordelia in the falling snow.  _ The image planted itself in her head, and she forgot the cawing of the crows and the call of the shrike and all of the fear and doubt that had plagued her earlier. Cordelia filled her with self-assuredness and confidence. She would be the Supreme the coven needed. She would be whatever Cordelia asked her to be. 

Pressing hard into the kiss, Cordelia placed a hand on Misty’s chest and pushed her onto her back. “Oh!” Misty landed on the pillow. She opened her mouth and cleared her throat. Cordelia crawled on top of her. “Are we doing this again?” 

Cordelia paused with her lips inches from Misty’s throat. “Do you not want to do it again?” 

“Oh, of course! I just—kinda soon? Never had it happen like this before—you know what, you keep going, I’ll shut up and figure it out eventually.” Misty snapped her mouth shut before she could say anything else to embarrass herself. She blushed furiously.  _ Why did I ask her that?  _ If they were going to date, they were going to have sex. 

Her scrambled words gave Cordelia pause. She kissed Misty’s jawbone. When Cordelia smiled, Misty’s heart grabbed a handful of live wires. “What’s going on in your head?” 

A nervous chuckle fluttered out of Misty. “There’s nothing in there but sawdust and pictures of you.” Misty took Cordelia by her waist. “You surprised me, that’s all. I’m ready now. Promise.” She wiggled on the bed, and Cordelia pushed her down onto the mattress again. Misty sprawled out spreadeagle.  _ Stupid. _ Cordelia kissed her. Everything she had ever known slipped out of her mind. She knew nothing but Cordelia’s lips and the color of her hair. 

Cordelia’s sticky mouth landed on her neck, and this time, Misty blurted nothing unintelligent except a breathless, “Hot diggity dog,” which elicited only a slight quiver from Cordelia, who maintained her composure and kept right on slathering kisses down her neck. Cordelia nuzzled into her artery. Misty tilted her head back so Cordelia could access the whole nude expanse of her neck. Her nipples pebbled with arousal, Cordelia on top of her and pressed so warm against her. 

Teeth grazed the skin above her pulsing blood. A gasp whispered from between Misty’s lips. She gulped. Her mouth was dry, but she could ignore her thirst in exchange for Cordelia’s sweet kisses and touches. Cordelia nipped her and sucked, not hard enough to leave a mark, just hard enough to make her hips wriggle on the bed. 

At her collarbones, Cordelia used more liberty, sinking in her teeth where the bruises would be covered. “Oh!” Moments ago, Cordelia’s advances had taken Misty by surprise, but now, arousal tingled between her legs. She hiked them up and spread them. “I—I like that.” Cordelia nipped at her chest, above her breasts but below her collar bones. Her breath whistled as she exhaled through her nose. Cordelia didn’t bite her hard enough to hurt—she trusted Cordelia would do nothing to cause her pain—but each time the teeth pinched her skin, tingles rushed down her spine. She ground her hips upward on the air. “Aye—Cordelia.” The beautiful name floated from her lips. Misty blinked a few times. She wanted to watch Cordelia. She wanted to look at her. But keeping her eyes open was a struggle. 

Cordelia shifted lower and landed upon her breast with an open mouth. “Oh,  _ oui _ —” Misty bit her lower lip to keep from churning out more French words. One of Cordelia's hands pawed between her legs and spread them out. Misty's back and thighs tensed at the intrusion. Cordelia used her middle finger to trace up and down where her labia split. Her digits coiled up in Misty's thick pubic hair. As Cordelia split her labia, Misty bit her lower lip. “ _ Non— _ ” Her hands fluttered up into Cordelia’s hair. 

With a soft  _ pop _ , Cordelia detached from her breast. “What is it?” 

Misty blushed.  _ Why do I always insist on embarrassing myself?  _ “I, um, just didn’t want you to, um, you know.” She hoped Cordelia could plug in an ending to her sentence, because she ran out of intelligent words and wanted to hide her face behind her hands for the rest of eternity. 

“I’m not going to. I promise.” Cordelia’s eyebrows furrowed. “I won’t do anything to hurt you, Misty.” The warmth in Misty’s face became less intrusive and more pleasant at the way Cordelia said her name. Cordelia’s fingers drummed upon her bare flesh with comfortable rhythm like a percussion instrument. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah—Yeah,  _ bien _ , I’m fine.” Misty stammered. She smiled up at Cordelia, trying to reassure herself. Of course Cordelia wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. She had nothing to fear.

Settling again, Cordelia wrapped her soft mouth around her breast. Misty allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she leaned back on the pillow.  _ Relax… _ It wasn’t so hard now. She tangled her fingers into Cordelia’s soft hair. Cordelia’s long fingers slithered between her labia. The pad of her middle finger flicked across Misty’s clitoris.  _ Oh! _ A tiny grunt wrenched its way out of her, and she mewled a small sound as Cordelia’s teeth grazed the pebbles around her nipple. Her nipples hardened in synchronization. Misty’s fingernails grazed the top of Cordelia’s scalp.  _ Don’t pull her hair, don’t pull her hair.  _ She wanted to. 

Long finger working in a round pattern on Misty’s vulva, Cordelia kissed a trail from one breast to the other across Misty’s chest. She hummed low under her breath as she worked. Misty relished in her noises. Her own sounds hiccuped in her throat and chest, uneven like the terrain of the earth they had crossed to make their way here. Cordelia’s circles increased, tighter and faster, as Misty’s hips worked harder, grinding upward against the palm of her hand. “Ah—” Misty gasped the note freely. “ _ Prends-moi! _ ” 

The corners of Cordelia’s eyes crinkled, like she wanted to laugh, but she didn’t. She sucked more forcefully, using the tip of her tongue to tease Misty’s nipple. Her finger wagged faster, more erratic as she lost control of her digits. Cordelia’s pelvis ground downward against the mattress. 

Tension collected in the pit of Misty’s stomach. She arched her back.  _ I’m close.  _ She tugged on Cordelia’s hair, digging her fingernails into her scalp and scraping over it. Shuddering from head to toe, her heart thundered in her chest. “Ah—Ah,  _ c’est bon! _ Cordelia, please!” Her spine arched off of the mattress. Cordelia moaned back at her. She squirmed. All of her muscles contracted and loosened, leaving her trembling as her orgasm crested on the horizon, a tsunami preparing to strike the shore. 

The tingling washed over her. “Mm,  _ oui! _ ” The base of her spine quivered. Her resistance crumbled and fell away. Sucking in a deep breath, Misty held tight. It attacked her. She clung to Cordelia. Electricity crackled in the air. Somewhere across the room, a vase exploded, and some old dead flowers fell onto the floor. 

Sensitivity flushed through her. “Ngh…” She took Cordelia’s hand by the wrist and pulled it up as her gyrating hips worked through their last few kicks. “Mm…” She leaned forward and kissed Cordelia on the mouth, rolling on top of her. Cordelia laughed. Her caramel toned hair spilled over the pillow behind her, an ethereal halo. Misty grinned. Her muscles were tired, and she felt gooey and sweet as syrup on the inside, but the sex flush on Cordelia’s chest was too tempting for her to think about anything else for very long. “Something funny, Yucca-girl?” 

Soft hands touched Misty’s face and pulled her down for a kiss. Cordelia giggled as she kissed her. “I’m happy,” Cordelia said, and the rosy tint to her cheeks and the upward curl to her lips proved her honesty—that, even if just in this moment, she felt something more than the anger and the fear and the doubt and the bitterness that had followed them since they met.  _ I want to make her happy forever.  _ Misty kissed her again. She slipped off of her mouth and paid attention to the long expanse of her neck. 

Cordelia tilted her head back to give Misty more access. Misty bit the junction between her neck and shoulder, sucking on it. Cordelia sucked in a tense breath through her nose. Her arms wrapped around Misty’s shoulders, fingers digging in tightly. Misty grinned at the sensation of Cordelia clinging to her.  _ I want to mark her.  _ She knew better. Her teeth left faint red marks as a remnant, but she restrained herself from leaving behind more marks of herself on Cordelia’s body. They had enough problems without the entire coven harassing them about this. 

Lips teasing Cordelia’s pulse point, Misty slid an arm between her legs. At the movement, Cordelia hiked up her legs and spread them out. Teasing the bristled, fuzzy mound with her palm, Misty kissed the side of Cordelia’s neck. “What do you want me to do to you?” 

With the arms clinging to her and the body splayed beneath her, Misty felt powerful. Cordelia tilted her head back and sought a kiss with puckered lips. Misty pecked her. “Make love to me,” Cordelia said, and it was so tender, Misty could have wept. She bowed her head forward. Their faces touched. Her eyelashes brushed Cordelia’s cheek. “Please, make love to me.”

“As you wish, Yucca.” 

A tremor passed through Cordelia as Misty pressed one slender finger into her body. Her hips jerked upward. Misty peppered kisses across her neck. Face to face, she could study Cordelia in detail, every scar and freckle and hair upon her skin. Every crinkle in her skin, every line where she had laughed or frowned, every sunspot—Misty drank it in as Cordelia’s hips churned upward toward her. Small noises whimpered from her. Her hips twitched on reflex, seeking more stimulus. Misty pushed a second finger into her. “Uhn—” The red blush crawled all over Cordelia’s face up to her hairline. “That’s—That’s good—” She leaned back, thrusting her chest upward, her arms still holding tight to Misty’s shoulders. “Don’t stop—”

Misty grinned into the crook of her neck.  _ I want to taste her.  _ Cordelia was holding her, and she didn’t dare break the tenuous hold of her fingers digging into her skin. “I ain’t even touched your clitty yet, darling.” She pumped her fingers in and out of Cordelia’s squirming body. Wetness squelched with every movement. “Would you like me to do that?” She curled her fingers forward. 

“Agh! Yes, please!” 

Chills ran down Misty’s spine. “Yucca knows her manners.” She used her thumb to find Cordelia’s enlarged clitoris, erect and tall, just like last night. The salty nectar poured from her, clear and viscous. “Is this good for you?” 

“Mhm—” Cordelia’s eyes rolled back. Misty grazed her teeth over her exposed neck. “Oh, faster—Misty, harder—” 

She obeyed. A cramp traveled up her wrist. She ignored it. Her flesh formed goosebumps at the sound of Cordelia pleading with her name on her tongue. Pumping her fingers in and out faster, she drew quick, firm circles with her thumb. Growing slicker, Cordelia trembled beneath her, moaning and gasping with pleasure. She hiked her legs up. The muscles in her thighs quaked. Her vagina tightened around Misty’s fingers. “You’re getting close,” Misty whispered right to her ear. Cordelia jerked her head in agreement. “You’re so beautiful, you know…” Cordelia mewled. “Yearning for release… I love it.” 

Fingernails dug into her shoulders. Raking down her back, Cordelia fought to hold onto something. Misty ignored the burning of Cordelia’s scratches. “I’m—so close—” She hiccuped on the air. “Misty, I’m gonna—Oh!” 

A tight squeeze held Misty’s digits in place. Her thumb kept on circling Cordelia’s clitoris, slowing and softening as the orgasm clenched up all of her muscles and then passed over, loosening them. When she had loosened enough, Misty slipped her hand away from Cordelia’s vulva and brought her dripping fingers up to her mouth. 

At the feeling of flesh at her lips, Cordelia eagerly puckered up and opened her lips. Misty slipped her fingers inside. Cordelia’s face screwed up. She sucked them clean, and then she nuzzled them away, a wrinkle on her brow. “I thought that was your mouth,” she said in a dry voice. 

Misty’s eyes widened. “Sorry!”  _ I suppose a little warning could’ve been warranted. _ “Let me try again.” She leaned down and pressed her lips to Cordelia’s softly. “Mm… Much better?” 

“Much better.” Their noses bumped together. “Not that I minded your fingers, either.” 

A tiny chuckle left Misty’s lips. “I’m glad.” She pecked the tip of Cordelia’s nose. “ _ Je t’aime _ , Yucca.” 

Cordelia grinned. “I love you, too.” She bowed her head against Misty’s, and then, quieter, she said, “ _ Je—Je t’aime. _ ” 

“Your accent needs work.” Cordelia giggled in response. Through the cracks in the wood, the sun baked through.  _ We need to go back.  _ “We ought to go back now, Yucca-girl.”

The smile on Cordelia’s face abated. She considered for a moment. “Yeah. We ought to.” She paused. “Why do you call me that?”

Misty perked up. “Yucca?” Cordelia nodded. “Yucca is a hardy plant. Deep roots. Doesn’t need a lot of water. Hard to pull up, even when the wind’s blowing. Like how I feel about you.” Cordelia blushed. “Also, almost every part of the yucca is edible. Also like you,” Misty teased. 

Cordelia choked on her giggle, covering her mouth with her hand. She shook her head, and then she pushed herself up clumsily. “You’re very sweet, Misty.” Misty followed her, steadying her so she wouldn’t lose her balance. “You’re right,” she said, slightly dimmer than before. “We need to go back.” She rooted around through the pile of clothes on the floor and picked up her bra and Misty’s chiffon blouse. She stuck her arms in it and started buttoning it up. “Myrtle’s going to be looking for us by now.”

“Bet Madison’s already convinced everybody else we’re dead.”  _ That’s my shirt. _ Misty watched her button it up.  _ Nah, she looks good in it. _ She picked up Cordelia’s blouse and put it on herself, and then she found her pants before Cordelia could steal those, too. “You didn’t have any shoes here, did you?” 

Cordelia shook her head. “I dropped my cane somewhere out there last night.” 

Misty kicked open the door and held out her hand. The cane whistled through the air toward her. “Here.”

With a hiss of disapproval, Cordelia scrambled to cover herself. “I’m not dressed yet!” 

“We’re in the middle of nowhere. Nobody’s gonna see your titties but me and the birds, I promise.”  _ The birds.  _ Misty glanced back outside. Perched in a tree, a crow and an owl sat side by side. The owl, gazing at her bitterly, hooted.  _ An owl hooting on a rooftop means death will pay a visit.  _ Misty swallowed hard and turned away from the mismanaged flock. “Here. Let me help. Let’s get out of here.” She helped Cordelia with the last few buttons on her blouse. 

“Thank you.” Cordelia swept the ground with her cane. It was covered in mud. “Let’s go home.” 

Shoving away the sense of foreboding billowing throughout her middle, Misty nodded.  _ I’m safe as long as I’m with Cordelia. _ And she had to stay to keep Cordelia safe, as well. With that thought, she held Cordelia on her arm.  _ Take us home.  _ The magic whistled, and with a  _ whoosh _ , they both vanished from the swamp floor. 


	9. There Is A Dream Left

“Hold still.” Outside the house, Cordelia paused right where Misty told her to stop, waiting for an explanation. It didn’t come. “Gotta hose off your feet.” Without any other warning, cold water jetted across Cordelia’s body. She flinched. “Sorry.” The hose sprayed over her ankles and her feet, washing off the mud and grass and leaves clinging to her skin. “There. You’re good. I’ll be right in.”

_ My shoes are out here somewhere. _ Cordelia didn’t have the patience to try to find them right now. She plodded up the stairs one at a time and entered the house, drying off her feet on the mat. Footsteps moved around the kitchen, approaching her.  _ Madison. _ She recognized the slightly uneven hiccup to Madison’s gait. “Hey, Cordy, Myrtle’s got the whole coven looking for you--” Madison cut herself off from her sneer. Whatever cruel thing she intended to say died on her tongue. The hair on the back of Cordelia’s neck stood up as Madison scrutinized her appearance. “Whoa, didn’t realize chiffon is your style.” Cordelia’s brow quirked. The door opened and shut behind her, and Misty shuffled her way into the house. “Oh, look, it’s walking cholera.” Cordelia grabbed Misty by the arm before she could take a swing at Madison, giving her a squeeze to remind her to be quiet. “What the hell are you wearing, Swampy? You look like a bedraggled lawyer who just had…” Madison trailed off, not finishing her sentence. Then, quieter, she whispered, “Oh my god. You  _ fucked. _ ”

Cordelia’s teeth clicked together as she set her jaw.  _ Well, there goes the secret. _ “You didn’t think it was necessary to tell me I grabbed the wrong shirt?” she whispered to Misty. The chiffon fit too loosely, and she realized now it smelled like Misty. How had it escaped her before?  _ I was too busy thinking about the orgasm I just had. _ Her face flamed. 

“You looked really cute…” Misty defended herself weakly. “I didn’t think anybody would notice.” Misty’s breath on her neck made her tingle. “I’m real sorry.”

Being angry would do no good now. Misty had the best of intentions.  _ I bet she looks really cute, too.  _ “It’s alright.” 

“Zoe!” Madison called. “Zoe, come get a load of this! Queenie!” 

Misty held up her hands, trying to stifle her shout for attention. “Hang on, Maddie, we don’t have to tell  _ everybody _ \--”

“Oh, suit yourself, I’m telling  _ everybody _ .”

Cordelia sucked in her lower lip. A mortified heat crossed her face at the sound of Zoe’s footsteps trotting down the steps. “What’s up? Oh, hey, Cordelia, Misty. We’ve been looking for you guys. Where are your shoes?” 

“Cordelia fucked Misty!” Madison said it with such pride, like she had just won a trophy. 

Misty squeezed Cordelia’s hand apologetically, but then she interjected, “Hey, wow, okay, I did a fair amount of fucking, too. We both partook equally in the fucking.”  _ I won the trophy… but I would’ve preferred it privately. _ Cordelia bit her lip to keep from smiling at Misty’s ridiculous interjection. 

Madison ignored Misty’s assertion. “Oh my god--they came in from outside. They fucked in the  _ greenhouse. _ ”

Misty interrupted again. “No, we did it in the swamp.”  _ Oh, god. _ The urge rose in Cordelia to bury her face in her hands and try to hide, but she clung to Misty, hoping her shame wasn’t too apparent.  _ We didn’t do anything wrong. We just made love.  _

“That’s worse! That’s so much worse! You understand how that’s worse, right?”

Zoe was quiet, and then she said, “There’s a  _ lot _ to process right here.” Her shocked voice made her sound very small. Cordelia wanted to say something to make her feel better, but she bit her tongue. Somehow, she sensed that she could say absolutely nothing right now that would improve this situation. “Like… a lot of information coming into my brain, I’m not sure I’m making sense of all of it correctly.”

Queenie’s heavy footfalls followed on the steps. “Heard my name.” She jogged downstairs. “Hey, Cordelia, Misty, I found some info in this book that we might…” She drifted off as she looked over the four of them. “You’ve got a weird vibe going in here, all of you.” She paused. “Is somebody gonna explain this to me, or am I gonna stare until I figure it out?” 

“Ray Charles boned Steve Irwin,” Madison said. 

Cordelia’s eye twitched. “Ray Charles? Really?” It was a new insult.  _ I can give her points for her creativity. _ She licked her lips. She knew better than to try to correct Madison at this point. She had no choice but to tolerate it. After all, she had brought this behavior onto herself. 

“Hey, I didn’t say Helen Keller.”

Misty rubbed the back of Cordelia’s hand with her thumb, placating the bundle of nerves in the pit of her stomach. “Usually I would be honored at being called Steve Irwin, but could we reel this in?”

Upstairs, Myrtle’s footsteps fell on the hardwood floors. Everyone fell silent. Cordelia cleared her throat. “If everyone could  _ please _ leave her out of this…” she whispered, low enough so Myrtle couldn’t hear. Everyone mumbled an agreement. Gratitude inundated Cordelia. Myrtle had never judged her for anything before in her entire life--she had no reason to suspect that Myrtle would criticize this. But some part of her was still a child begging for Fiona’s approval and getting nothing in return, and that little girl was desperate to protect her relationship with Myrtle. “Thank you.”  _ I wish I could hide. _ She wanted to hide under the blankets in her bed with Misty and never come out again. 

With a sharp, “Hm,” Madison called upstairs, “Hey, Myrtle! Cordelia and Misty are back!” 

Her feet, also, landed on the staircase and made their way toward the group. “Oh, my sweet Cordelia.”  _ Act normal, act normal, act normal. _ Cordelia didn’t know what  _ normal _ was for her. Her hands kept sweating. She fumbled with her cane, feeling quite clumsy and awful. Misty wiped off her palm sweat. “I was wondering when the two of you were going to consummate your relationship.” 

Madison choked. A vaguely animal sound came from Zoe’s throat. A breath whistled out of Queenie. Misty was still as a statue beside her. “You knew?” Cordelia asked incredulously.  _ How did she know? I didn’t even know until yesterday!  _ And, much as she adored Misty, she sensed that the development was a surprise for her, as well. “How did you know?” 

“Misty has been giving you the sweet eyes since we came here. Honestly, I’m surprised no one  _ else _ noticed.” Myrtle approached and gave her a curt hug in her usual, blase way. Cordelia wanted to cling to her. She didn’t dare linger. “I’m proud of you.” A little girl lived inside of Cordelia’s skull, and with every doubt she experienced, the girl screamed,  _ Unloved! Unloved! _ but now, hearing these words from Myrtle, the little girl was quieter than before. “And you, Misty, dear.” Myrtle patted Misty’s cheek. Misty giggled and grinned and nodded. “I’m about to start on lunch, girls. Happy casting.” 

In her own mellow way, Myrtle left the room in the same shocked silence she had found it. Zoe cleared her throat. “Well, um, I’m, um… yeah, I’m gonna go--” She took Madison by the wrist. Madison swatted at her and protested, but Zoe was persistent in dragging her back up the stairs.

Queenie’s presence weighed heavily in the room, somewhat like a cloud looming over Cordelia’s head. “So,” Misty hedged, “how hard are you judging us right now?” 

Queenie was silent for an incredulous, charged moment. “Zoe and Madison built a boyfriend out of dead body parts and reanimated him. This is the most normal romance that has happened in this house since the beginning of time. Not even a blip on my radar.” 

_ I’ve heard less comforting things.  _ Queenie had a point. Cordelia relaxed a little. In the grand scheme of things, there was very little unusual about her relationship with Misty. They were  _ normal _ . Misty fondled her hand again. It eased Cordelia’s spirit. She heard the rustling pages of a book, and her ears perked up with interest. She couldn’t read anymore, but an instinctual part of her craved ink and paper at her fingertips and the knowledge inherent to those things. “What’s that?” she asked. 

More pages turned. The crisp scent of parchment settled something in the pit of Cordelia’s stomach. “I found some information in this book about soul sacrifices to Papa Legba. The betrayal of innocence and the exchange of one’s soul for immortality.” The inside of Cordelia’s mouth dried up.  _ Nan. _ Papa Legba lived in the underworld--the hell witches only visited for trials and rarely for bargains. A witch never wound up on the good side of a bargain with Papa Legba. Everyone knew that--or, at least, everyone who had read a bunch of books about it like Cordelia had. “There are some accounts of bargains being taken and reversed in good faith.” 

“Reversed?” Cordelia repeated aloud. 

“That sounds pretty dicey,” Misty said. “I don’t wanna strike no deals with somebody whose job is to deliver my soul right.” 

“Whatever deal Fiona and Marie Laveau made--it’s moot now,” Queenie said, ignoring Misty. “If we can find a way to communicate with Papa Legba, to reach him, we may have a case for getting Nan back.” 

Cordelia hesitated. She remembered her dream from the previous night. Misty held her sweaty hand. She squeezed it tightly on reflex.  _ No. _ She struggled to push away the thoughts. “I… Queenie, I don’t know. Descensum is the only way to reach Papa Legba, and it’s very dangerous.”

“I’ve done it.” Queenie was breathless. “I did it. I reached him and ended his contract with Marie Laveau.” Cordelia blinked.  _ I’ve got to be a better teacher. _ She absolutely did not need her students going behind her back to make deals with the literal devil.  _ That sounds like something they should cover in Education 101 at college.  _ “But he won’t discuss Nan with me. He won’t tell me anything.” 

Cordelia’s stomach squeezed with an anxious chill. “Why not?” Misty asked. Cordelia held tighter to her. 

“I don’t know.”

“Did he confirm that he has her? Or power over her?” Cordelia asked. 

Misty sucked her lower lip. “Papa Legba ferries souls, according to the mythology. He doesn’t own them. I don’t think that’s his jurisdiction.” 

Queenie sighed. “I don’t know. Papa Legba designs hells to torment the individual, but he wouldn’t tell me if he had designed Nan’s.” She fidgeted where she stood. Cordelia could hear her weight shifting and her clothes rustling. Queenie was loud, easy to track and follow, unlike Misty. “He wouldn’t knock off the cryptic rhymes and the slanted truths. He said it wasn’t up for discussion. He said she was one of his favorites.” 

A scowl etched itself onto Cordelia’s face before she could wipe it away. “One of his favorite  _ what? _ ” She had never met Papa Legba--she hoped she never had to meet him. But the thought of a man, any man, even a deity who bestowed magic upon witches, claiming one of her girls as his own and picking her as a favorite set fire to her blood. 

Softer, Queenie repeated, “I don’t know.” Cordelia’s skin crawled as Queenie’s gaze darted from her to Misty and back again, uncertain which one of them to fix upon. A nervousness exhaled off of Queenie which Cordelia had never sensed upon her before. Finally, Queenie settled upon Misty. “He won’t talk to me. He won’t answer any of my questions. But I think maybe he’ll talk to the next Supreme.” 

_ No, no, no, no. _ The urge rose up in Cordelia to climb Misty like a beanstalk and hold fast to her until she promised to never descend. A lump built in her throat at the mere suggestion of her vision becoming truth. She couldn’t speak her panic strangling her voice. But Misty could. “What makes you think I got anymore hold over him than you do? We don’t have any proof that I’m stronger than anybody else here.” 

“How many of the seven wonders have you performed?” Queenie asked in a challenge. Misty hesitated to answer. “Have you been counting them? Because I have.” Awkwardly shuffling her feet, Misty stood nearer to Cordelia, who squeezed her arm. “You bring things back to life at the drop of a hat. You summon objects at will. I saw the two of you, yesterday evening, playing tag in the backyard. I caught you doing concilium. Zoe overheard you divining locations out of the clouds. Madison told me you set the house on fire.” A thin croaking in the back of Misty’s throat started and then died off. She had no good answer. “None of the rest of us have performed that much magic, or done it so consistently and on command. If Papa Legba is going to listen to one of us, he’ll listen to you.” 

None of the words reassured Misty. “I’m not as sure as you are. About any of this.” 

Queenie straightened her back in a challenge. “Sunday is coming. The trial is in two days. We’re all going to be asked to perform, regardless of how ready we are.” The hair on the back of Cordelia’s neck trembled at the sharp words.  _ How can I save her?  _ “This book has the revival spell. It’s the only surefire way to keep hell from consuming you. But nobody’s allowed to say it when you perform the seven wonders. If I were you, I’d want to give it a fair shot before I was risking my life over it.” She shoved the book at Misty. Misty caught it. “This is your last task to perform. Don’t fuck it up. And find out something about Nan while you’re at it.” 

Anxiety billowed off of Misty. She gulped audibly. But, to Cordelia’s horror, she said, “Alright. I’ll do my best.”  _ She agreed. She’s going to do it. _ Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat. She squeezed Misty’s arm with so much force that Misty flinched. 

Queenie nodded. “Thank you.” 

She headed up the stairs. Misty rocked back onto her heels and took Cordelia’s hand, physically unfurling her fingers from around her arm. “Cordelia--that hurts. Knock it off.” As she swatted Cordelia’s hand away, she dropped it with a short gasp. “What’s the matter with you?” Misty asked. 

_ I don’t even know where to begin.  _ Cordelia’s mouth opened into a tiny gaping O. Her lips closed and opened and closed and opened again. She tried to find her voice in her throat, but it had crawled down deep into her chest and refused to emerge. Her jaw closed with a click. She lowered her hand and placed it on the small of Misty’s back, admiring the way she curved. “We should… I think I need to take a shower.” 

“Okeydoke, Yucca.” Misty pecked a kiss onto the crown of her head. Tears burbled to Cordelia’s eyes. They hurt. It hurt to cry--it stung like someone had thrown acid at her all over again. She swallowed hard and fought to keep from shedding her tears as she followed Misty up the stairs. Out of habit, she turned to her room. “This way,” Misty said. Cordelia trotted after her.  _ Right. Different room.  _ “We haven’t really tidied up in here much.”

“I--I think we should worry about it later.” Cordelia had never cared less about mess. Her cane knocked into something on the floor. She walked around it. With every step, she listened to Misty’s movements, how she put the book on the bed and the pages whispered with her touch. “Misty, I…” She kept starting sentences and then forgetting the words she wanted to accompany them. All of the feelings churning in the pit of her stomach didn’t have good words to express them. “Will you come with me? In the shower?”  _ Don’t be so needy.  _ Cordelia nervously licked her lips. She was thirsty. She needed to brush her teeth. Misty had already given to her this morning--wasn’t that enough? She didn’t want to demand too much and exhaust Misty. She wouldn’t become a burden. 

Misty hopped up from the bed as enthusiastically as a prairie dog peeping up out of its burrow. “Sure!” All of her preoccupation disappeared. She walked by Cordelia and swatted her rump playfully. Yelping in surprise, a hot blush rushed to her cheeks. “Sorry--did that hurt?” 

Covering her mouth with her hand in shame, Cordelia shook her head. “No--No, of course not. I just, um… It’s been a long time.” It had been a very long time since someone had treated her like she was sexy, especially so casually and without a Viagra involved. “It’s surprising. That’s all.” 

The hand patted her ass again, gentler this time. “I don’t want it to be surprising ever again.” She pecked a kiss onto Cordelia’s cheek.  _ I’m gonna swoon. _ A stupidly large grin appeared on Cordelia’s face. A sort of dizziness flooded through her. Misty made her lightheaded. She had never relished in such a feeling so much before. “C’mon. I’ll get you some clothes that are not my clothes.” 

Cordelia went into the bathroom and fumbled around for her toothbrush. The mint flavor was refreshing. Her hair hung heavy and sticky from all of the humidity in the swamp. Sweating, slinging mud and rainwater, making love, sleeping under a quilt with another naked body in a building with no air conditioner, these things had all done a number on her personal hygiene overnight. She sniffed herself. The combination of odors, dried sweat and old sex, clung to her hair and skin.  _ How did Misty stand making love to me this morning? _ she wondered, a little disgusted by herself. Her limbs and vulva had stubble. Hank never would have tolerated her in this state. Hell, she didn’t really know  _ how _ Hank would have reacted, because she never would have presented herself to him this way. But Misty was wild and unruly, a butterfly weed sprouting up between cracks in a sidewalk under a broiling summer sun. Misty was not an urban gardener trimming back the border on her house. Misty roamed a field of wildflowers and kept them unapologetically. Misty blew the seeds off of dandelions and thought of the honeybees. 

It wasn’t so much that Cordelia had never dated anyone like Misty before. She had never  _ met _ anyone like Misty before. As she thought it, Misty flanked her, announcing her presence by touching the small of her back, and took her own toothbrush. Cordelia shuffled sideways to make more room for her at the sink. Misty grunted her thanks. 

She felt warm inside with the way Misty pressed against her side. This affection was so genuine and organic. She couldn’t explain it. She hadn’t experienced anything like it in years--maybe ever. She wasn’t certain.  _ I can’t lose this. I can’t lose her. _ A lump swelled up in the base of her throat. She spat her toothpaste and scrubbed her tongue before it got any larger, doing anything she could to distract herself from the sense of impending doom growing inside of her. As she stepped away from the sink, she turned her back to Misty and began to unbutton the chiffon blouse. The buttons were small and unusually shaped. She struggled with them at first, but then she slipped them out one by one. 

The sink water turned off, and the shower came on. Misty stepped so lightly on her bare feet that Cordelia could scarcely track her movements. The clothing whispered as it dropped to the floor. “Coming, Yucca?” 

Cordelia hastened her movements. “Yeah.” Her bra got caught. Misty spun her around and unhooked it for her. “Thanks.” Steadying her, Misty helped her step into the tub. “I got it--I got it. I can do some things by myself.”

Stepping in after her, Misty pulled the shower curtain closed. “But that’s not as much fun as me spoiling you, is it?” The hot water sprayed too close to Cordelia’s face. She closed her eyes. Misty touched the tip of her nose. “Can I wash your hair, or are you too independent for that?” 

“It depends. Can I wash yours?” Cordelia adored Misty’s gentle teasing. 

“Of course.” 

She stood on her tiptoes and puckered her lips, leaning forward, trying to find Misty’s mouth. Misty kissed her in return.  _ This feels too good. It feels too right.  _ What if she lost it all again? Soft hands combed through her hair.  _ I need to tell her what I Saw.  _ Her stomach quivered as Misty scratched at her scalp and picked dirt off of it, untangling her hair between her fingers. What if it wasn’t a vision? It could’ve just been a dream. All indicators pointed to Misty as the next Supreme--Myrtle thought so, and so did Queenie, and Madison feared Misty as viable competition.  _ I can’t hold back the coven to try to protect her.  _ Her chest ached with the rapidness of her heartbeat.  _ But I can’t let her put herself in danger, either. _ “Misty…”

Bubbles frothed up under Misty’s fingertips in Cordelia’s hair. She worked them lovingly through her locks, massaging all of the oil out of her hair. “Hm? You got a sad look on your face, honeydew.” 

_ Honeydew? _ Cordelia started to ask.  _ Oh. Honeydew melons.  _ She stammered her way past the nickname, trying to focus on the matters at the front of her mind. “I… I’m afraid. I don’t think you should do descensum.” Misty was quiet. She didn’t interrupt. Cordelia almost wished she would have. “It’s dangerous, it’s not safe, the fail-safe spell is just hypothetical and has never been used before, I just can’t--I don’t think--it might not be the best idea.” She drifted off lamely, uncertain how else to express herself in a way that didn’t make her sound paranoid and deranged. 

She could hear the eyebrow quirk in Misty’s voice. “Do you think I’m not the Supreme, then?” she asked. She wasn’t hurt. It was an honest question. But it churned up more problems in Cordelia’s gut, which was quickly becoming an Easy Bake Oven filled with stress. 

“I--I--” She couldn’t have it both ways, could she? She either thought Misty was the Supreme and trusted her to complete the seven wonders, or she didn’t. “I’m scared that I might be wrong.” Her voice was weak. “I’ve been wrong about--about  _ everything. _ ” She still stammered her way through her speech. The quiver refused to leave her voice, betraying her uncertainty. “I was wrong about Hank. I was wrong about Fiona. I was wrong about Marie Laveau--I don’t know if I’ve ever been right about something like this before in my entire life, and I can’t--I don’t think I could live with myself if you were hurt because of my word.” 

With one hand on her chin, Misty tilted Cordelia’s head back into the stream of water to rinse the shampoo from her hair. “Darling.” Every muscle and nerve in Cordelia’s body curdled at the single word, singing in pleasure and crying out in pain. “You weren’t worried about this yesterday.”  _ It didn’t seem so real yesterday.  _ “I know you may not trust yourself. But I trust you. And I already told Queenie I’d do it.” Cordelia leaned forward, resting her forehead on Misty’s shoulder. “What’s the matter? Did you See something?” 

_ Yes. No. Maybe.  _ “I--I don’t know. I don’t think it was a vision. It may have just been a dream, but…”

“But?” 

Her lower lip trembled. “You turned to dust in my arms.” 

Lean arms enveloped her in a soft embrace. The way Misty held her made her eyes sting with those dumb tears which caused her so much pain. It hurt to cry. “I trust you,” Misty said again.  _ Oh, don’t say that! Don’t trust me! That’s the worst decision ever! _ “I’ll do whatever you think is best, alright?” 

_ I don’t want you to do what I think is best. I don’t even know what I think is best.  _ Cordelia gulped. “I want you to be safe… I don’t know what’s best for that.” 

Delicate fingers thumbed through her hair. No one had touched Cordelia so tenderly before, like she held more value than gold and required no touch heavier than a breath. “Well… I still have to do the trial, don’t I? Whether I want to or not. So, I mean--maybe it’s better to do it sooner, rather than later. You know, where somebody  _ can _ help me if something goes wrong. Queenie said we’re not allowed to do the reversal spell at the trial. Is that true?”

A quiet sigh left Cordelia’s lips. “Yes. The reversal spell can’t be performed during the trial. It compromises the amount of time a witch has available to prove herself.”

Misty hesitated. “Just a thought, but I’d rather be an alive idiot than a dead braggart.” 

The corners of Cordelia’s mouth curled upward. She couldn’t bring herself to laugh, though. It was too close to reality for her to consider it funny. “Me, too.” Her hands fumbled for the shampoo.  _ Me, too. _ Misty turned her back to her, and Cordelia lathered up her hands and began to drag her fingers through the curly locks.  _ And I’d rather die than lose Misty again.  _ She found a bump on Misty’s scalp and peeled off the tick without much thought.  _ That’s it. I can make sure the reversal spell works. She doesn’t have to do it. And once we know for sure, she can practice without risking anything!  _

“You’re jittering,” Misty said. “What’s up now?” She leaned back into Cordelia’s hands and gave a tiny, satisfied purr at the way her dull fingernails crossed her scalp. 

“I’ll do it,” she whispered. Misty hummed a question in response, requesting elaboration. “If I do it, and we test the reversal spell and make sure it works, then--then it’s not really dangerous, is it?” 

The happy sound stopped. Misty squawked like the angry seagulls at the beach that had once attacked Cordelia and plucked out her earrings. She made another strange sound, only comparable to a mad bird, before she managed any intelligent words. “That’s a terrible idea!” Cordelia pursed her lips. “What if it doesn’t work? I thought the whole point was to keep me from turning to dust!” 

“You won’t be turning to dust.”

“But you might! That’s just as bad!” 

Cordelia bristled. “It’s different for me. I have less to lose. And less meaning here, compared to you.” 

“No.”

This was the strictest, sternest word Cordelia had heard from Misty. The tone left no word for argument. Cordelia bit her lower lip and thumbed through Misty’s hair some more, picking more bits of dirt from her scalp and working her way through it. Misty was silent after her single assertion. Cordelia nudged her under the warm water to rinse the shampoo from her hair. “I should think it’s a worthy sacrifice, if it would fail.” 

“I should think it’s not.” 

Sucking the inside of her cheek, Cordelia reconsidered. “Then I should think it’s my choice, even if the sacrifice is not worthy.” 

A palm caressed the side of her face. She flinched back, sliding on the wet floor, expecting to be slapped, but Misty caught her by her wrist and held her up. The hand on her face did not sting. It was gentle, like the rest of the touches Misty placed on her body. “Delia…” The sound of the shower water almost drowned out Misty’s whisper. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve never had anything good before in my whole life… Not like this.” 

_ But I’d crumble a thousand times before I let my vision come true.  _ Cordelia turned her head and tenderly kissed the inside of Misty’s wrist. Beneath her lips, a live pulse throbbed and thrummed, coursing with magic and raw power and so much goodness that she feared she would suffocate beneath its consuming weight. Misty was a live wire of heat and electricity crackling into her with every touch. Cordelia had  _ felt _ Misty, her energy, her aura, every moment since she had entered this house for the first time. Losing that--it was unthinkable. In the vision, she had  _ felt _ it as Misty’s soul abandoned her. The thought of it becoming truth brought her too much anguish. “You won’t lose me. I’ll come back to you.”

“Even if the spell doesn’t work?” 

_ That’s a big promise.  _ Cordelia felt a little guilty, but she said the word, “Yes,” in spite of all of her inhibitions and her worries. If the decision were within her control, if she had any power at all, nothing would ever separate her from Misty again. It was not a lie if she did everything in her power to ensure she kept her vow. “I promise.” 

Soft lips caressed hers. She tilted her head up into the pleasant, surprising kiss.  _ This is right. I’ll do what’s right. I have to do what’s right. _ She had failed in so many ways. She had failed her mother, her husband, her coven. But she could do this right--she knew it. With Misty at her side, she could accomplish anything. The water ran over their faces, and Misty’s eyelashes brushed her face. “I still don’t like it.” The loofa brushed against her hip. Cordelia spun around, moving as Misty’s hands told her to, allowing her to scrub her body. “But I trust you.” 

_ You’re the only one who ever has. _ Cordelia strangled those words in the back of her throat. “I’m not sure I deserve it,” she confessed instead. Her muscles tensed in her back. Misty dragged the loofa over them, and they loosened up again. “I just want you to be safe.” 

“I’m gonna be. I’m here because of you. A thousand armies couldn’t tear me away from you now.” Misty tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And when I’m the Supreme, you’ll never have to worry about anyone being safe ever again.” 

“I’m going to worry, regardless.”

Misty chuckled. “Of course you are.” She kissed Cordelia again. “We’re gonna eat before we send you to hell, right?” 

“Oh, definitely. It’s lunch time.” 

The loofa pressed into Cordelia’s hand. “Then let’s hurry. I’m starved. And the water’s starting to get cold.” 

It was hard to be afraid when Misty was so close beside her. Cordelia smiled and nodded. She added more soap to the loofa, and then she began to work at the expanses of Misty’s skin, focusing on the way it felt under her fingertips. The immediacy of her reality staved off any fear of the future. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave encouraging comments if you're enjoying this story! I'm going through a rough time with getting it finished and I could really use some brightness about it.


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